


a hundred different ways

by shineonloki



Series: 100 Lifetimes Challenge [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: 100 Lifetimes Challenge, Alternate Universes, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 56,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16071125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineonloki/pseuds/shineonloki
Summary: He couldn’t always remember every detail, but he knew one thing— in every life they would find each other.And, even in the lives that Loki hated him, he would always love him more.





	1. canon

This time, he was his brother.

A golden, radiant boy on the cusp of manhood— arrogant and selfless, all in one. Loki knew his flaws, knew him inside and out. He had seen him be a good king, he had seen him be a bad king, and he’d seen him be no king at all.

For all that he loved him, he knew Thor wasn't ready to be crowned.

Loki watched from a distance, tucked away along the palace wall, a goblet of sweet wine in hand. His brother leaned his head back, barked out a laugh, slapped his hand down hard on the table so that the plates rattled. Surrounded by friends, he was drunk— as he often was during the great feasts.

He wasn’t like Loki, he didn’t pace himself.

But, Loki, he’d been refining his patience for eons— he licked the bittersweet from his lips and across the room, Thor caught his eye— and he was _good_ at it.

“Brother!”

Loki smiled as Thor neared him, teetering on his feet, a drunk, happy smile on his face.

“Brother,” he greeted in return. There was a time when the word would have dredged up a feeling of inappropriateness, but those days had long since passed.

They’d been brothers before— it always ended the same, or near enough to it. Their connection was stronger than the bonds of blood.

A hand came to cup lightly at his neck and calloused fingers rubbed small circles into the skin found there. From this close, Loki could smell the mead on Thor’s lips and skin. There was a darkness in his eyes— a heat not normally reserved for family.

“You’re not going to join in on the festivities?” Thor asked, the contact on Loki’s neck becoming rougher, more possessive.

“Oh,” Loki smiled, raising his chalice to his lips, shaking it lightly to get Thor’s attention. “I am.”

Thor laughed, even though nothing was particularly funny. The mead was getting to his head, probably. Sometimes it was a problem, most of the time it wasn’t. But—

“Tomorrow is your coronation; do you really want to have a stale head for it?”

Something shifted on his face— doubt.

There was no room for doubt on the throne.

Thor swayed closer, planting the hand not anchored to Loki’s jaw on the wall behind him. They were in public, but the court had gotten used to their overly-affectionate brotherly tirades. 

There were rumors, of course. There would always be rumors.

“Must you always try and tell me what to do?” Thor growled, close enough to Loki’s ear to send a shivering promise down his spine.

He looked up at his brother, eyes large and full of false innocence— his lips in the perfect shape of an _‘o’_.

“I thought you _liked_ when I told you what to do?” Loki’s virtue dropped in a flash, replaced by a devilish grin. He brought his knee up, wedging it between Thor’s thighs. They were just enough in the shadows to hide the way he pressed it forward, grinding hard on the growing bulge in the front of Thor’s pants.

No one could see the way his mouth hung open in a breathless pant as Loki leaned in and hissed: “ _Brother_.”

He couldn’t always remember every detail, but he knew one thing— in every life they would find each other.

And, even in the lives that Loki hated him, he would always love him more.

He hoped Thor would forgive him this time. 


	2. victorian

The seamstress was a church-bell— always chatting extensively about things Loki cared little for. He normally paid her no mind, smiling politely and nodding along to her stream of consciousness as he folded his mended clothing beneath his arm and crept towards the exit.

Today though, something in her ramble had caught his interest.

“He must be married, a man like that,” she said with a wistful sigh.

The man in question, the one she had so colorfully described, had been _built like a stack of bricks, eyes like a summer afternoon, hair as yellow as_ — well, Loki knew in his heart who it was, even without the poetic jumbo of a lovestruck old maid.

He had felt a pull to the quaint little town. It was good to strike gold.

“Where might I find him?”

The seamstress looked at him oddly, and he threw her one of his more delightful smiles.

“I am needing some rather heavy furniture moved around the manor. If he is as strapping as you describe—”

“Oh, he is!” Another dreamy sigh. “You can find him down by the docks.”

\--

The docks were dreary, everything smelled faintly of salt and fish. Loki tried not to turn his nose up at it or let his face go sour. He needed to be approachable, charming, _convincing_.

It didn't take him long to spot the hulking form of a man that he knew to be the one the seamstress spoke of. Loki could only make out his back, broad with muscles shifting under his tunic as he worked. Tied at the nape of his neck, his hair was dirty blonde— not yellow as, what was it? _Daisies_?

He cleared his throat, and the man turned around, startled. Loki couldn't help the sharp breath he sucked in.

“I thought I would never find you,” he said calmly. He truly hadn’t— they were both well into their thirties. Thor’s face was marked with little creases, lifelines depicting years that Loki longed to have been a part of.

“You were looking for me?” Thor asked, standing from his crouch and wiping dirty hands on the fronts of his breeches. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I am in need of a handyman at my estate,” he responded. A strong will-power was all that held back the urge to laugh. _You were looking for me_? Loki was _always_ looking for him— he was damned to it.

Luckily, there was a slim chance Thor would turn down his offer. The men in the wharf were always looking for work, both honorable and dishonorable. Loki wasn’t sure which category his intentions would fall into yet.

“That would be fine.”

Loki let out a small huff of laughter, darting his eyes away from the magnetic presence before him. “I have not even given you a figure for your payment.”

“I have no doubt it will be handsome,” Thor said with an ease that could be interpreted as either confidence or flirtation. Loki chose to hope for the latter.

His familiar eyes were appraising Loki for all he was worth—the fine silk of his waistcoat, the crisp white of his linens, he came from wealth and Thor could tell. It was a stark contrast next to his worn, dirty rags.

If greed was Thor’s motivator, so be it. Whatever drew the fly to the web.

“Indeed,” Loki confirmed. He held out his hand, and Thor took it into his, palms pressed together longer than necessary. “Loki Laufeyson. You are?”

Thor smiled wildly, eyes crinkling at the corners, beaming like the sun.

“Thor.”


	3. curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously titled “vampire”— because originally i was gonna just do generic trope titles.

 

**1973**

“Is it almost ready?”

Loki threw his head back and laughed, too dramatic to be sincere. He sat the wooden spoon to the side, the end covered in a thick, red sauce. Strong arms snaked around his waist, a cold nose nudging into the crook of his neck. He couldn’t help but lean back into the comforting weight behind him. It felt like home.

“What does it matter to you?”

Thor didn’t eat— not food, at least, as Loki knew it. His appetites were much darker, ravenous. He could already feel his pulse quicken, his heart working faster in anticipation for Thor’s true meal. Thor could feel it too, it was evident by the small growl he let out as he pressed kisses into the long line of Loki’s neck.

“Because,” Thor said lightly, punctuating himself with a tiny nip to the sensitive flesh of his throat. It had Loki arching back, a whine falling from his lips, breathless.“The sooner _you_ eat, the sooner I can.”

Loki suddenly didn’t care much about the pasta boiling over on the stove. Thor’s meals always promised to be euphoric, no matter if he had to wear that stupid ascot for a week after.

He clicked off the gas stove and turned into the embrace. There was something otherworldly twinkling in Thor’s blue eyes—he didn’t need to glamor, Loki was his. Loki was always his.

“You look hungry now,” he told him, low and teasing. He leaned his head back, tilting it to present his neck as an offering. “Come on, then. What are you waiting for?”

Thor’s nostrils flared, and Loki smiled. It was always better when he was worked up. He couldn’t deny he liked it a little rough, when it seemed like Thor was punishing him for the things he had done, even if he didn't remember Loki had done them. Yes, it was better to taunt.

With lightning speed, Thor hauled him up onto the counter, pushing his legs apart and slotting himself between them. It was no small feat, Loki was six foot and, although slender, composed of lean muscle. It was of little importance for someone— _something_ — like Thor.

Loki shivered, grasping at the solid weight of Thor’s arms as he licked a hot, wet stripe up the column of his throat. He could feel the sharp points of teeth gazing at the skin, wanted them to sink into the flesh as much as Thor. His cock was already hardening at the thought, at the memory of all the times before.

This Thor would live forever, and Loki intended to do the same by his side. Together, they could end the relentless cycle of hell.

“Make me yours,” Loki whispered, his voice already sounding needy.

“You are mine.” Another small bite, a tease.

“No—,” Loki hissed through his teeth as Thor’s mouth moved to his earlobe. Loki wasn’t the only one that knew how to work the other into a frenzy. “You know what I mean.”

He was old enough now— twenty-five. He’d found Thor when he was fifteen and begged for it; a shared immortality with the one his soul so desperately loved. He’d been turned down, but not unkindly. After all, even though Thor was young by his species' standards, his body was older. Loki was content to wait.

But, now— he matched Thor on the outside. No one would turn their heads funny. They lived together under the disguise of brothers. Brothers, who, well…

Thor stilled against him, pushing himself back. The absence left Loki with a feeling of despair, for his lover’s face was no longer full of lust— but, an apology.  

“I can’t.”

Anger replaced despair.

“ _What_?” Loki seethed. Thor said nothing. “You _can’t_? Or, you _won’t_?”

“Both,” Thor whispered. “Only an original can change a human.”

“So,” Loki shrugged. “Take me to the original.”

“No, Loki.” Thor turned, wiping his hands on his pants. It was a stupid gesture; his hands weren’t dirty. Unless he was trying to wipe the scent of Loki from them.

“You promised—”

Thor turned to him in a snap, face snarled up into a look that would strike a paralyzing fear if it were directed at anyone else. “Drop it.”

Loki was not going to drop it.

“I thought you wanted to be with me.”

“I do.”

“I will die someday.”

_What if when I am reborn, I can’t find you._

“Yes,” Thor said cruelly. “That’s what humans do.”

“Then change me,” Loki pleaded. His was sounded desperate now. He knew that, he didn’t care. He couldn’t do this again, not another lifetime. He needed it to end. “Please.”

Something flashed over Thor’s face that wasn’t anger. It was pity, and it was worse.

“You said you loved me,” Loki muttered.

“I do.” A beat, a sigh. “That’s why I will not curse you.”

There were tears welling in the corners of Loki's eyes, they spilled out over his cheeks in a silent cry. He couldn’t stop them if he wanted. The weight of heartbreak was too much— knowing he’d feel the same heartbreak a thousand times over.

He leapt from the counter, turning his back to Thor, turning the stove back on. He took the spoon in his hand but hesitated before returning it to the sauce. Loki stared down at, a damp spot formed on the light wood where a tear fell.

“Loki,” Thor called apologetically from behind him.

Loki took in a deep, shaky breath— sniffed back a cry. It didn’t require much strength to take the wooden spoon in both hands and snap it apart. The sauce-covered end clattered to the floor, the sharp, splintered end remained in his grasp.

“Loki?” It was a question.

He turned, hands shaking. The look on Thor’s face would have killed him if he hadn’t seen in a hundred times before.

“Loki.” It was fear.

“I’m sorry,” he told him, and meant it. Truly, he always meant it.

Thor’s eyes widened in forlorn shock when Loki plunged the makeshift stake into his heart. Red gurgled up from his pretty lips, blood, that wasn't his, spilling from the wound on his chest. He stumbled back, and Loki’s hand slipped from the handle to fall loosely, defeated, at his side.

He let out a broken sob as Thor fell back, looking down at his chest and then back to Loki. He opened his mouth, but only blood fell out. His skin was already graying; his heart that would no longer beat, breaking.

“I’m sorry,” Loki told him again. He knelt down to take Thor’s face in his hands, he reached up to grasp weakly at Loki’s wrist. Tears were flowing freely now. “But, you know nothing of curses.”


	4. hope

Loki woke in a panic. The room was blanketed in shadows, a blue tint from the early morning sky. It was their room, everything was in place, everything was alright. His heart hammered against his chest all the same.

A dry swallow, a deep inhale, eyes closed _— everything was alright_.

Sometimes the nightmares faded the moment he woke; other times, they stuck around in the back of his head for days. Memories of lives he lived— _they lived_ — resurfacing in his subconscious. Terrible reminders of the things he had done, and that they had done to each other.

He rolled over, taking the down comforter with him. Thor was sleeping soundly, never burdened with the past. The overcast from the window made him look softer. Loki settled into his pillow and reached out to lightly run his fingers along the soft skin of Thor’s chest.  

The glint of his silver wedding band caught his eye, and Loki’s lips broke out into a smile, which was then hidden when he buried his face into the bulk of Thor’s arm. Regardless of the ghosts, at that moment, Loki knew only happiness.

On their wedding day, a teary-eyed Thor had stood before him and called him _soulmate._ Of course, he didn’t understand the gravity of his chosen words— it still gave Loki hope to think that in this lifetime, Thor felt it too.

He let his fingers trail upwards, brushing over a nipple, which had Thor’s face pinching into a frown. Loki smiled, devilish. He leaned over his husband’s sleeping body to give the bud a wet kiss, blowing on it softly until it stood erect. Thor stirred beneath him, and when he opened his eyes and looked down— blinking in confusion— Loki darted his tongue out to give it a quick, devious lick.

“Good morning,” Thor said with a sleepy smile, voice groggy with sleep.

Loki hummed under his breath, leaning up on his arms and draping himself over Thor’s torso. “A _very_ good morning,” he whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to chapped lips. Thor kissed back, despite his morning breath.

They broke apart with the blaring of an early morning alarm. Thor groaned, and Loki rolled his eyes— he would throw that stupid clock away if he could, instead he reached over and pushed it off.

“C’mon, I have to shower.”

Loki didn’t budge, only sat up enough to take Thor’s face into both of his hands. He didn’t look annoyed, but amused, smiling up at Loki like he was the sun.

“Let’s stay like this,” Loki whispered, kissing his forehead sweetly. “Please, just a little while longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's...it's still kind of sad. ;_____;


	5. sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rent boy au / daddy kink (probably fairly mild)  
> i half-ass edited this, so please excuse any errors   
> <3

The hotel was nicer than what he was used to. The walls were gilded, ornamented with delicate filigree, and the floors were a smooth, white marble. A single square foot of the place probably costed more than Loki’s entire flat.

Stark  _really_  pulled through for him.

The receptionist stopped her insistent clicking as he sauntered up to the front desk, leaning on it in the most informal manner. She looked up over her rimmed glasses, giving him a disapproving once-over. He knew how he looked— he didn’t care. She’d probably seen enough rent boys slink through the halls.

“Can I help you?”                                    

“The time?” Loki said with a false-sweetness and shark-like smile.

She frowned just before she lips pulled back into a tight line. “Five until eight.” Loki tapped his black-varnished nails along the wood of the desk— probably mahogany, or something equally pompous. She narrowed her eyes at the annoying clatter. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No, just meeting someone,” Loki said with a bored sigh. He adjusted his fur jacket— the black one, that swallowed his slender frame— with a sniff of his nose and jut of his chin. “Thank you.”

——

According to Stark—this guy was  _loaded_. It was already apparent that he wasn’t exaggerating— some son of a CEO, who must be busted or deranged if he was this rich and still paying for sex. Most were content on taking him to a bed-bug ridden motel off the side of the road, and even more often than that, they were fine with a quick fuck in the back of a car.

There was a time where the job made him feel empty— but he soon realized that emptiness was pre-programmed inside of him. Sex didn’t fill the hole, drugs didn’t either, alcohol,  _nothing_. It was a consistent ache for something he couldn’t put a name to. If he was destined for misery, he might as well have a chunk of change in his pocket too.

Loki took the elevator to the fifty-fifth floor. His foot tapped anxiously, a sporadic rhythm that gave away his nerves. It was always like that with new clients; there were some sick people in the world, and even Loki had his limits.

Oh well, if he wanted to rough him up, it’d cost extra.

Outside the door, Loki physically and mentally prepared himself. He let the tension in his shoulders dissipate, giving the illusion he was relaxed, and ran his fingers through his hair, tucking black curls behind his ears. Mentally, he emptied his mind— pulled his work persona from that dark place in his heart.

Two sharp knocks, as requested.

Three things happened when the door opened: Loki’s breath was taken away, like a goddamn storybook. A spark of something—  _something_  that felt like a recognition. And, in a rare occurrence, his cock twitched in curiosity for what was to come.

Loki regained his composure. “Hello,” he purred, in what he sincerely hoped was  _seductive._

There was a red alarm firing off in the back of his mind, but he ignored it with expert precision.

His client was hot— actually, that was the understatement of the century. The man before him looked like he just stepped foot off a GQ photoshoot; tie, crisp, white button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbow, tailored pants, a haircut that  _screamed_  money.

Oh, this was going to be very good— or  _very_  bad.

The man stood still, fingers clinging tight around the door handle.

Handsome  _and_  shy.

Loki smiled like the cat who stole the cream. He pressed forward, crowding the man’s space, wedging himself into the open door. With one practiced hand, he took hold of the tie, sliding it up and down between slender fingers.

Loki looked up at him, batting his eyelashes cautiously, innocently—things he was  _not_. “You going to let me in?”

His client swallowed and nodded, opening wider, allowing Loki to walk him backward. It took all of two seconds after the click of the door for Loki to be shoved against it. Strong fingers gripped his shoulders tight enough to leave bruises, even through the soft plush of his coat.

Loki weaseled a finger between them when the man went for his lips, blocking him; he wagged it condescendingly.

“Name,” Loki demanded.

“Thor Odinson.”

“Ah,” he huffed, delighted at the recognition—  _Thor_. His father was one of the wealthier men in the city, nearly everyone knew his name— there were a couple that ran in his circuit that had been employed. Loki, however, had an age limit. And, this Odinson was right on the money.

Literally.

“Loki,” he told him.

Thor looked down at his shoes. They were nice shoes. “Yeah, I know. I asked about you, before, well,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous, bashful gesture. Loki didn’t like it, he had no business looking adorable on top of smoking hot. He needed rough hands on him again, the illusion of the situation was teetering somewhere dangerous.

Time to put on a show.

Loki leaned back against the wall, tie still held loosely in his hands, he tugged it, ushering Thor forward. “You’re a handsome man,” Loki murmured. A truth. “Why are you doing this?”

Thor’s grip tightened up again, and Loki smiled like a mad-man. He let his hands slip from Loki’s shoulders, caressing down his arms, moving to settle on his hips. Loki arched beneath him and pressed his hips forward, lolling his head back and whining. Something in Thor’s touch, no matter how simple, set him on fire.

The alarm went off again; Loki continued to ignore it.

Then Thor was gone, leaving an empty space between them and a pounding in Loki’s chest. He watched him walk further into the hotel room; he needed to regain control of the situation—  _again_.

Thor sat on the edge of the bed, staring as Loki shrugged off of his jacket, dropping it to the floor. He felt underdressed next to him, in his plain v-neck and black jeans that were painted on.  _Lesser_ , his mind told him. Loki shook the feeling away—  _he_  wasn’t the one paying for sex.

He just needed Thor to toss him down and fuck him good, so he could be on his merry way.

“Are you tired of playing pawn for daddy?” Loki taunted. Thor’s nostrils flared. He struck a nerve.

_Good._

“Oh,” Loki trailed off, taking the few steps forward to close the distance. He placed a gentle hand on Thor’s face, rubbing the bearded cheek with his thumb. Those eyes, piercing blue, were so familiar. He moved to trace a faint scar over his eye— the hole in his heart ached, thumped against his ribcage and screamed for him to notice. He didn’t, he straddled Thor’s lap instead. “Do you want to  _be_  the daddy now?”

“Watch it,” Thor groaned; it was a warning. He reached behind Loki and gripped tight on his ass, hauling him further into his lap, further onto the hard bulge tenting his expensive dress pants.

The weight felt good beneath Loki, and he rocked forward, grinding down on Thor’s cock until he was panting. Thor kept his hands firmly planted on him, urging the small thrusts as Loki worked them both to complete hardness through their clothes.

“Fuck,” he hissed, dropping his head down onto Thor’s shoulders. He was shaking, he could feel his shoulders trembling as his body was being pulled down, and down, and down. It felt good, too good. Good enough to—

“Stop,” Loki whimpered. He wasn’t used to enjoying himself at all, much less coming close to coming in his pants like a teenager.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. They needed to set up rules, negotiations, a  _price_. But,  _oh_ , Thor was nosing at his neck, kissing it lightly, all the way up to his ear where he sucked, and Loki had to scramble for purchase on his shoulders.

Fuck it.

“Did you hire me to dry hump or are you going to fuck me?”

Thor stood, taking Loki with him, and Loki clung for his life. Part of him wished to be fucked just like that, but he was soon tossed down onto the bed with a soft bounce.

“Is that what you want?” Thor knelt onto the bed between Loki’s spread thighs. He ran a hand up the inside of his leg, fingers stopping to pop the buttons of his jeans open with ease. “For me to fuck you?”

 _It doesn’t matter what I want_ , Loki doesn’t say.

Thor grabbed hold of his belt loops and yanked— a predatory action that had Loki’s cock straining. “Yes,” he breathed out and was surprised to find it was the truth. “Yes, fuck me.”

There was a thrill in saying things that he actually meant, he couldn’t remember the last time that happened. So, once the dam broke—

“God— Fuck me,” Loki knew his voice was strained and breathless, even he could hear the desperation. He thought back to the way Thor’s eyes had darkened at being called daddy during his earlier provoking. “Please, daddy.”

It was strange, his mouth had wanted to form the word  _brother_.

His pants and underwear were stripped from him. The shirt remained on, but Thor pushed it up far enough to expose his nipples. They were already sensitive, and Loki had to bite back a moan when Thor took one into his mouth.

He canted his hips up, cock harder than it had been in ages. He wasn’t going to last long, but thankfully, that didn’t matter.

Thor lifted his head from Loki’s chest, moving down between his legs to unbuckle his own pants.

Finally,  _finally_.

“Do you deserve to be fucked?” Thor growled.

Loki screwed his eyes shut and tilted his head back. “Yes,” he lied.

He didn’t deserve it, not really. Because, Thor touching him felt good, and Loki didn’t deserve to feel good. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like maybe Thor knew that too.

Thor didn’t stop though, didn’t call him on his bluff. He raised two fingers to Loki’s lips and commanded: “Suck.”

Loki took the two thick digits graciously in his mouth, making sure to get them nice and wet—and making sure Thor  _knew_ the things he could do with his tongue. Maybe, after it was over, he’d let him suck him back to hardness. He’d make sure Thor knew he’d swallow every drop— free of charge.

The siren blared again.

Thor pulled out with a pop, and Loki smiled at the debauched expression on his face. It was nice to know he put it there.

Two, split-slicked fingers circled his hole, teasing before being pushed in. Loki had prepped beforehand, as he often did. Most of his clients weren’t so kind, and in his early years, he’d learned the hard way to take precautionary measures.

Thor worked him, in and out. Pumping, and twisting until he hit just the right spot— that place that had Loki hissing through his teeth and tears welling at his eyes. Thor watched every twitch of his face with a strange awe.

“Do you think you could come on my fingers?” He punctuated the question with a particularly brutal thrust, and Loki sobbed.

 _He better fucking not_.

—Not that he didn’t enjoy Thor finger-fucking him into a weeping mess.

Loki was saved from having to beg further. Thor let his fingers slip out, which earned him a whine, and leaned over to fumble with the nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. Loki noticed, idly, that he was still clothed— save for his unbuttoned slacks. There was something thrilling about it, like Thor had popped in from his business meeting to fuck him quick and hard.

A smile curled on his lips.

Loki watched with hungry eyes as Thor prepared himself, and Loki got to have a front row ticket to see his cock up close. He had felt the bulk of it in their earlier grinding session, so he had some assumptions. But, the real thing was delicious. Thick, red, swollen and already so eager to be inside him. Loki spread his legs wider in anticipation.

“Come on,” Loki whimpered as Thor reinserted his newly lubed fingers, slicking him up. “Make me come on your cock, daddy.”

The pumping of Thor’s fingers stilled and then pulled out hastily. Loki would have missed the fullness if it weren’t immediately replaced by a cock nudging at his entrance, breaching him with merciless thrusts. Even with the over-abundant prepping, there was still a lingering burn to the stretch as Loki’s body worked to take him in.

Thor seemed hesitant, conscious of Loki’s pinched expression.

“It’s okay,” Loki soothed—the wanton demeanor vanishing for a moment. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “Move, you can move.”

Something shifted, and it wasn’t Thor’s hips. He was buried deep inside, to the hilt. Loki could feel every inch of him, could feel every panting breath, every heartbeat. It was like they were meant to fit together, and Loki hated his brain for supplying so earth-shatteringly cheesy.

Still, Thor was looking down at Loki like he felt it too.

“Oh,” Loki breathed out and wasn’t sure why.

The sirens were ringing in his ears now.

Stop, stop, stop, stop—  _you don’t want to do this anymore_.

Loki didn’t know what that voice in the back of his mind was trying to tell him.

Thor pulled out slowly and pushed back in—  _no_ , because Loki definitely wanted to do this.

It was slow, bordering sensual, the complete opposite of how it all started. He’d been begging for Thor to fuck him, hard and raw. But, this felt right. It felt as though the hole in his chest was healing, finally filling up.

They rocked together, nothing but soft pants between them. Earlier, Loki had enjoyed the idea of Thor fucking him partially clothed— like he was a dirty secret— but now, he longed to feel Thor’s skin against him. Like they were meant to be, like every part of Loki’s soul yearned for.

“Thor,” he gasped, and Thor kissed him sweetly on the side of the mouth. Loki turned into the kiss, pressing lips against his. He had a rule about this, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.

Something wet slid down his face, and he realized too late they were tears. He was crying.  _Crying_ , while tenderly fucking a client.

“Fuck,” Loki choked out— but Thor didn’t interpret the desperate plea for what it truly was. Instead, he picked up his pace, slamming home over and over. He reached between them and took Loki’s cock in hand. It was still achingly hard, weeping at the tip and ready for release. Thor gave it a few good strokes, and Loki began sobbing for a completely different reason.

“Come for me,” Thor whispered, kissing him square on the lips.

Loki did as he was told, spilling hot stripes between them, over Thor’s knuckles, over his expensive black slacks. It didn’t take long for Thor to follow, his rhythm losing balance and his thrusts becoming more sporadic.

Loki felt it the moment it happened—Thor spilling inside him. Usually, this was the part that brought the most relief. That meant it was over and Loki could rehearse some stupid line about how he’d never been fucked like that before— even though he had mediocre fucks all the time— then he’d gather his things and his money and leave.

Relief was not what he felt.

Horror, however, was. A stab of anguish as Thor looked up at him, breathy and smiling. Thor,  _his Thor_. The floodgate crumbled down, and Loki remembered everything. He remembered pained lifetimes of heartbreak, betrayal, happiness,  _love_. A game of cat and mouse he had spent ages trying to stop.

“Loki?” Thor questioned.

He was going to be sick.

“Get off me.”

Thor drew back, pulling his spent cock carefully out. “Is something wrong?”

Loki gave a bitter laugh, struggling to get off the bed to snatch up his clothes.

“Do you ask all your whores that?” He spat.

“Loki…”

He shimmed back into his pants, fastening the buttons quickly. Hearing Thor say his name with so much care was salt in the wound. “Don’t say my name.”

“Well,” Thor said, perplexed. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Don’t call me anything,” Loki bit back, shrugging on his fur coat. “In fact, don’t ever contact me again.”

He didn’t look back, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach the lost look on Thor’s face. He’d seen it enough times already.

“Okay,” he heard Thor say weakly. “Sure.”

It seemed, inevitably, he was always chasing Thor. Loki closed the door behind him—  _but_ , this time, he ran.


	6. record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cheesy fluff. i used a generator for the band names, and honestly if _balls spiders eggs_ doesn't become a real band i'm calling the police.

The welcome bell chimed from the front of the store and Loki didn’t look up from his book. It had been busier that morning— seeing that is was the first Saturday after the start of the fall semester— but now he was physically and mentally exhausted.

It wasn’t that he hated his job, but he didn’t particularly like it either. Eager-eyed freshmen, dressed like they still had life left in them, would trickle in and shift through the vintage records. If he had to guess, ninety percent of them didn’t own anything to even play them. Or, if they did, it was a new cheaper model, one that didn’t allow the music to be heard as it was meant to.

The job played the bills, but it didn’t pay enough for him to _Mr. Customer Service_ every time someone walked through the door. So, Loki sat idly flipping through his book— head somewhere else.

Someone cleared their throat to get his attention.

 _Rude_.

Loki heaved a long sigh and clamped his book shut; if his eyes rolled anymore dramatically, they would have fallen right from his head. To really polish off the animosity, he added an impatient huff.

“Can I—” The words died on his lips. Loki pushed his black-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose; he resisted the urge to wipe off the lens to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Thor— bundled in an ivory sweater, plaid scarf twisted around his neck, blonde hair artfully tousled into a low bun— looking like the poster boy for an expensive fall catalog. Thor, who was always in the back his mind, even when Loki tried to push him away. Thor.

 _Thor_.

“I’m sorry. If you’re busy—”

“No!” Loki answered, a little too readily, slamming his hands on the counter and scooting out of his stool. They stared at each other, blinking, and Loki felt his face heat up. “No, I’m not busy, what can I do for you?”

Thor smiled, small and easy— and Loki’s heart melted into a puddle within the walls of his chest.

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?”

Loki thought back to two days prior when a customer had asked him the same question and he had pointed lazily to the discount bin.

“Well, what kind of music do you like?”

“Oh, uhm,” Thor’s eyes darted away, scanning the shelves quickly. “This kind of music.”

Loki stared at him, and Thor shifted around awkwardly. Oh, he was cute too.

“Monochrome Women?” Loki said on a whim. It wasn’t a real band, but he couldn’t resist teasing. Thor shrugged his shoulders but didn’t outright say anything.

“Teenage Spades?” A nervous smile. “Modest Shambles?” He opened his mouth and closed it again, clearly flustered. “Balls Spiders Eggs?”

Loki gave him a Cheshire grin and Thor looked offended before bursting out into laughter. The sound was sweeter than any note a record could hold.

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me.”

Loki held up his hands in a flirtatious surrender. For a moment, they were the only two people in the universe— and Loki wanted it no other way.

“To be honest,” Thor said with a shy duck of his head. “I work next door and I see you open up every Saturday. This—” He gestured around at the store. “Isn’t really my scene.”

Loki’s heart was hammering so loud, he wondered if Thor could hear it.

“And,” Thor continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering if you would want to get coffee sometime.”

Thor looked at him hopefully, and Loki wasn’t sure how he could ever tell him no.

He smiled, wide and toothy— “Sure. I get off at five.”


	7. haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just to go along with the art that me and wisterings spent all night drawing together. :')

Thor held up a bundle of burning sage, waving it through Loki’s semi-corporal form. It swiped through his body, disrupting his figure like mist, only for it to reform.

He fixed Thor with an annoyed look.

“That’s just a myth.”

Thor held his head, raking his fingers through his long, messy hair— muttering something about nightmares and going crazy.

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh, hmm.” Loki looked down at his half-formed body. “Well, this is awkward.”

Thor tossed the sage to the ground and stamped it out with his boot. He glared back up at Loki, looking paler than a…well, _ghost_.

“So, what? Does your soul have unfinished business?” Thor finally sighed, exasperated. “Because, look—I just bought this house. I can’t really move and I’m too old for a roommate.”

Loki swirled around him, a sly smile evident on his transparent features. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

Loki stopped circling Thor like a vulture and came to a halt inches before his face. Thor stared at him, blinking and swallowing audibly in fear. He couldn’t touch him, not really, but that didn’t stop Loki from trying— cupping his head in his hands. At the first sign of contact, he could see a shiver shake down Thor’s spine.

“You,” Loki replied, like it was _that_ simple. Then planted a ghastly kiss to his forehead.


	8. sunshine

He was late— an inconvenient fender bender had backed up traffic on the main road, making his car move at a snail’s pace. The to-go order of waffles sat sadly in the passenger seat next to him and Loki kept glancing over, like the fumes of his irritation would keep them warm.

“You’re late,” Jane told him, as if he didn’t know. There was a teasing lilt to her voice, and in many lifetimes, he hated her— but ultimately, she was good. He handed her the coffee he’d picked up with the food and was immediately forgiven.

“How is he?” Loki asked, reaching over the desk and peeling off a visitor sticker for himself. At this point, he didn’t need it. He knew nearly the entire staff by name. Still, a rule was a rule.

Jane gave him a sad smile, the kind of smile that told him everything he needed to know. Loki pushed back the emotion collecting in the back of his throat.

“He’s been asking for you,” she told him softly. “That’s good, right?”

On instinct, his eyes followed the fluorescent-lit hallway— the one that held the door to Thor’s room. He nodded meekly, swallowed nothing.

“Yeah.”

——

Loki knocked on the open door twice— a little, unspoken ritual to let him know it was Loki visiting.

“I brought you breakfast,” he said, making sure he spoke loudly and shook the plastic bag apologetically. “Sorry that I’m late.”

Thor looked at him with a wide smile, like he hadn’t been bothered at all by Loki’s tardiness— as long as he was there.

“That’s okay,” Thor told him. His fingers patted the bed, searching until they wrapped around a small remote; the press of a button inclined him into a sitting position. “It's nice that you entertain an old man like me.”

Loki got to work sorting out his breakfast— cutting the waffles into small pieces, pouring the sugar-free maple syrup over them. He gave an amused snort. “You’re not old.”

Thor chuckled, a laugh that quickly dissolved into a fit of coughs. In the beginning, it would alarm him, but he was used to it by now. On autopilot, he picked up the glass of water by Thor’s bed, tilting his head back and pressing it to his lips.

The truth was, Thor _was_ old. Older than any of the other times they found each other. But, beneath the years and wrinkles— he was still the Thor that Loki loved. His hair had grayed and thinned, a little longer than most his age. Sometimes Loki would brush it for him and Thor would tell him he remembered his little brother doing the same. Loki would then press a chaste kiss to the top of his head and remind him that he’s an only child.

He pulled up his chair by the bedside and settled the food on his lap. Scooping up a forkful of waffle, he held it in front of Thor's mouth. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

——

Loki spent most days at the nursing home. Most people wrongly assumed he was a grandson, and he let them believe it because the truth was strange and hard to explain.

In earlier years, days were spent together in the rec room, playing cards and sharing stories. Thor would tell him about his late wife, and Loki would smile politely. He was jealous, because how could not be? But, more so, he was thankful that he had a long, happy life. At least, Loki thought, he could ease him into the next one.

Loki closed the book held in his hands; they did more reading these days than anything else. Somewhere in the middle of the fourth chapter, Thor had begun to nod off. The room was quiet, save the sound of Thor’s breathing machine and the faint click of heels in the hallway and Loki watched the rise and fall of his chest. 

He reached out and patted Thor’s arm where it rested at his side, letting his hand linger. Thor stirred, tilting his head to face Loki and cracking one eye open. “Why’d you stop?”

“You fell asleep,” Loki teased; he glanced at the clock on the wall.  “And, it’s late. I should get going.” He stood, dragging his hand away slowly. Thor’s fingers twitched in his direction and Loki smiled down at them, taking them in his.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Do you think,” Thor said, his voice raspy. He licked his lips, concentrating on the words coming out of his mouth. “Do you think that we could go for a walk tomorrow?”

Loki nodded— “Of course.”

He very much doubted they would be allowed, with his current health, but there was a low chance Thor would remember the request anyway.

“I’d like to feel the sun again,” Thor told him.

Loki bent over, bringing Thor’s knuckles— knobby and swollen with arthritis— to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“We will.”

——

Jane tried to stop him the second he walked in. All of the chatter had ceased into a deadly silence, all eyes on him. She’d looked at him with sorry eyes, mouthing something Loki couldn’t hear. There was a ringing in his ears. 

When he got to Thor’s room, it was empty.

Wordlessly, he made his way to the vacant bed— fingers trailing the spot where Thor should have been. He heard Jane catch up, panting lightly as she hung back in the doorway. There were tears in her eyes, like his.

“Loki, come on. You don’t need to be in here.”

He ignored her— just kept trying to picture Thor lying there again. Alive, not dead. 

“We were supposed to go on a walk today,” he told her.

Something hot and wet slid down his face. Tears, he realized, soundless sobs as his shoulders shook. Loki tried to dull the pain by remembering it wasn’t really the end. Still, he loved Thor irrevocably— and he loved each Thor, of each life, a little bit differently. This Thor had been his companion, his very best friend.

He told himself that it would be okay— the sun would shine on them again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you gotta' take an already painful quote and make it worse. love you all. <3


	9. nametags

“Hey, you dropped your nametag.”

Loki paused in wiping down the bar counter-top— some rather drunk man had spilled beer all down it. He frowned and looked down at his chest before remembering, _they didn’t wear nametags_.

He was just about to shoo off whatever drunk patron had chosen to annoy him— but he looked up and _oh_! Not a burly man twice his age and covered in more grease than the bar kitchen! No, an _insanely_ attractive man with bright eyes, a perfect smile, and artfully tousled hair.

Loki’s heart stopped beating— and that’s when he remembered he’d been spoken to.

“My nametag?”

The man’s face broke into a cheeky grin, and he tossed a packet down onto the bar. Loki’s eyes dropped down to the little pink thing, no bigger than a sugar packet. That’s because it _was_ a sugar packet.

Loki picked it up with his index finger and thumb, cautious like it was radioactive, eyebrow arched. It read, “ _Sweet Thing_ ”.

 He tried to remain stoic, he did try— really, really hard. But, the stranger’s smile was contagious.

“Has this ever worked before?” Loki asked with feigned disbelief. He knew it more than likely did, it didn’t matter how cheesy the line was, he was five hundred degrees of hot and there probably wasn’t a soul on the Earth that would turn him down.

“You’re my first. So, did it?”

Loki tossed the packet down.

“What’s your name?”

“Thor.”

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki drawled, testing the weight of the name on his tongue. It was strange, but familiar in a way he couldn’t place. It was a strange sort of deja vu, like looking at an old friend, an old lover. “I like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they go out the back on loki's break and loki shoves him against the wall and drops to his knees. the end.


	10. away

“Are you going to miss me?”

The sun was piercing through the window pane, it warmed their skin, and Loki could see specks of dust dance in the light. Summer was coming to an end— but this time it was different. This time, Thor wouldn’t be waiting at the bus stop with him come August.

Loki turned on his side, curled up in a ball facing his brother, where they both laid sprawled on the carpet surrounded by boxes of Thor’s things.

“Why would I miss you?” Loki asked— there were many answers to this question, and Thor was smart, but he probably didn’t know half of them. “I finally get the bigger room.”

Thor’s solemn expression broke into a smile, and he reached over to give Loki a playful shove, which he resisted. He couldn’t help but smile back. That’s just the way it was with Thor— his big brother, his best friend, his closest confidant. There wasn’t a thing in the universe Loki wouldn’t do for him. So, he smiled even though his heart ached.

They settled back into silence—Thor on his back, hands folded across his stomach, and Loki still pillowed on his side, staring content at his brother. Minutes that could have been hours passed between them, only some soft song drifted from Thor’s boombox.

“I’ll miss you,” Loki said, and Thor turned. He looked genuinely surprised, which Loki found just slightly offensive. “Do you think you’ll miss me?”

Thor’s eyes searched for something in Loki’s face— maybe a hint of dishonesty? A joke? He couldn’t be sure. Finally, his features softened, and he gave a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Loki repeated. When he couldn’t take the way Thor looked at him any longer, he rolled onto his back, mimicking Thor’s posture. “You’ll probably meet a girl and forget all about me,” he lamented.

“You wouldn’t let me,” Thor chided, the smile was evident in his voice. There was a rustling beside him, and then Loki was being hauled into strong arms. He put up a weak protest, but inside, he was happy to feel the warmth of his brother around him. Happier than he had any right to be.

“No,” Loki laughed, wiggling his arms between them and giving a pathetic attempt to push Thor away. He couldn’t look too eager— and he couldn’t risk Thor feeling the quickening of his pulse or seeing the reddening of his cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”

Thor buried his nose into Loki’s hair, inhaled and gave a quick kiss to the top of his head. Loki’s fists balled up into his brother’s shirt, and, on instinct, he pressed closer. A beat passed, where the only thing that could be heard was their mingled, heavy breathing.

Thor’s lips were so close to his own—he could do it. He could kiss him. He was leaving for university the next day— what could it possibly hurt? Loki tilted his head up to find Thor already looking down at him, face clouded with something unreadable; or, something that he lacked the experience to read.

It had to be wrong, to want this. But, oh, Loki wanted it so bad. He shifted, subtly, trying to see if perhaps Thor wanted it too. He pushed up, a fraction closer to the mouth he wanted on his—but tucked his head back down at the last second in cowardice. Instead, he pressed the crown of his head back to Thor’s lips, urging him to kiss it again.

Thor obliged, peppering him with small kisses that had the hairs on the back of his arms standing on end. Loki had to physically pull back, because each touch created a stirring in his gut and a twitch in his pants.

“I’ll miss you most of all,” Thor whispered.

Loki already missed him, and it was strange— he felt like it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.


	11. arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw, vaguely alludes to intersex!loki, this was gonna' be full-on smut but unfortunately, i had to stay later at work. :')

Asgard was hot, stuffy, and all of the things that Loki loathed. _Too golden_ ; not enough blue; not enough ice; not enough snow. Things were more or less his size, so that was a very thin silver lining.

It was nice to feel normal-sized when he was used to feeling rather small.

He tugged at the collar of the traditional Aesir garb they’d forced him into— it was _still_ too hot.

His father, Laufey-King of Jotunheim, stood beside him, regal and giant; Loki tried to mimic him. He had the regal part down, but it was the _giant_ part that gave him difficulties. There was no helping his stature in comparison to his people.

But, if he stood straight enough, perhaps he would be a little taller than his betrothed.

Jotunheim and Asgard had only recently put aside their political differences and attempted to bury the hatchet to end their century-long feud— even if said hatchet was used by the Aesir army to dismember their country land into unrecognizable factions. No matter! Loki was to marry the prince— a bandage on a still-gaping wound, disguised in a pretty package labeled: _Wedding!_

“Be on your best behavior,” Laufey-King hissed under his breath as the Aesir royal family descended the stairs to greet them.

“Aren’t I always?” Loki asked, with a false smile and innocence.

They both knew that was a lie— all of the nine knew it. He’d formed quite the reputation for himself; perhaps that was why King Odin watched him with a careful eye, despite his air of diplomacy.

Prince Thor, his soon-to-be husband, looked every bit as miserable as Loki felt. He’d have to teach his sorry companion a thing or two about masking emotions— it wasn’t good to give them away.

That’s why Loki had locked his heart and left the key in Jotunheim.

\--

It wasn’t that Thor was unattractive, per say. Sure, he lacked the right color of skin—peachy instead of blue—and his body had replaced heritage marks with hair. But, Loki found him attractive all the same.

He tried to picture himself looking Aesir— pale and gaunt. He shuddered.

No, they would compliment each other just fine. Aesthetically speaking, of course. Thor’s eyes matched his complexion, and Loki’s eyes matched the red of his cape. Maybe his father was right, maybe their marriage was foretold by the Norns.

Loki shook the silly thoughts from his head and sat down his goblet. That was the wine talking, he’d have no more.

Perched close to the middle of the long banquet table, Loki had a perfect view of the celebration. There was a lot going on, so much jubilation, Loki couldn’t possibly keep up. So, he sat, silently observing, purposely avoiding partaking in any merry-making.

There was a band of performers playing an upbeat melody while drunk men and women linked arms and paraded about, spinning in circles until Loki grew dizzy just from watching. His eyes scanned the crowd for something else to lock his attention onto—until they finally landed on his future husband.

Loki pretended that he hadn’t been searching for him, it was just a nice coincidence. And, if Loki’s body went rigid the moment Thor looked up and met his gaze, well, that was just a coincidence too.

He watched as Thor said something to his companion, eyes never leaving his, ending the conversation with a slap on the back. Then he was making gallant strides towards the table and Loki began to fret. He reached up and arranged the adornment of jewels hanging between his horns, smoothed a hand over the dark plait of hair tossed over his shoulder.

In the beginning, he’d been pleased that he was encouraged to wear the traditional formal wear of Jotunheim. But, now he felt oddly exposed as his body betrayed him. Maybe Thor wouldn’t get close enough to notice the goosebumps dotting his arms or—

Well, would Thor believe him if he said it was chilly in the palace even though he was Jotnar?

There was a warm touch of fingers on his bare back, and Loki nearly slipped from his fine silks.

“Prince Loki,” Thor said with a smile. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

Loki turned to him and tried not to let his mouth hang open in awe. Up close he was far more handsome than previously assessed. The scrolls of Asgard he’d read in preparation for his marriage did the prince no justice at all.

Loki’s fingers twitched on the table, and he wondered if that golden hair was as soft as it promised to be.

“I am,” Loki responded, a half lie. He wasn’t enjoying himself before— but the pooling low in his belly made him aware that he was certainly enjoying himself now.

“Would you like to dance?”

Loki’s answer was nearly a squeak— a noise that had Thor grinning from ear-to-ear and hauling Loki up by the hand.

They stayed connected like that, fingers intertwined, as Thor drug him to the dancefloor. As they spun a dance that Loki didn't know, he made sure to duck his head so that no one would see his smile.

\--

Thor slammed him against the wall of a corridor, away from prying eyes. It would have been aggressive and mildly threatening if Thor’s only attack wasn’t desperate kisses along Loki’s neck.

Loki whined, arching his back to get closer, as the hot, wet pecks nipped closer and closer to his ear.

“Thor,” he panted. They needed to stop— they weren’t wed yet. If either of their fathers found them…

Thor took a sensitive lobe between his teeth and Loki’s knees buckled. His fingers tightened along Thor’s biceps, digging blunt nails into the flesh he found there.

“We need to stop,” he barely got out between breathy moans.

Thor’s hands ceased their roaming, and he pulled back, blinking lust-blown eyes. Loki instantly missed the contact, wanted to feel the rough, warmth against every inch of him.

“Do you not—”

“No!” Loki was quick to remedy. Thor still backed up, taking all of his heat with him, so Loki reached out and drew him back in. “I mean to say, I _do_ want this.”

Thor’s face softened into a smile. “Then I see no reason why we should stop.”

He leaned back in to continue his kisses, headed straight towards Loki’s blue lips. He turned his head at the last second so that his cheek would catch it— and Loki groaned because he hated himself for doing so.

“Because,” Loki whimpered. “We are to be wed in a day’s time. It is tradition—”

A kiss to his cheek. “If you want me to stop.” A kiss to his jawline. “Tell me to stop.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Had he not _just_ —?Thor pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth, so close to a proper one. Loki licked his lips.

“You are ravenous, Thor of Asgard.”

His hands rubbed down Loki’s back, stopping at his hips, urging them forward with tiny tugs. His words spoke of upholding tradition, but the slick wet between his thighs and curve of his cock spoke of something else. Loki took hold of Thor’s face, pillowing it between cold hands. He studied him, more serious than the situation called for; the slant of his nose, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair, the shape of his lips—

Traditions could be damned, Loki decided.

He pulled Thor’s head down as he rocked up on his tip-toes, their lips colliding in a kiss that tasted like victory. An unusual feeling swirled in Loki’s head— the need to possess, to conquer, to love. The taste of Thor sunk deep into him, making him tingle with a power beyond any magic.

Loki was struck with a strange thought.

“Do you think it is possible we were destined to rule together— side-by-side?” He realized, too late, how silly he sounded. “It’s just,” Loki stopped and pursed his lips. There was no explaining the unusual magnetism he was feeling. “Nevermind.”

He sighed into a smile and snapped his hips forward until his cock collided with the hard line in Thor’s breeches. Thor looked as though he planned to speak, but the words drifted from his gaping mouth as Loki rutted forward, only a thin piece of silk acting as a barrier.

Thor’s fingers trailed from where they rested on Loki’s neck, danced along his ribcage, teased at the edge of his skirt—

Chatter and footsteps quickly approached the corridor. The two princes sprung apart, immediately setting to adjust the obvious stiffness below. A group of servants talking animatedly with their arms full of empty goblets and plates sauntered by, nodding respectably as they passed.

Thor and Loki both stood, staring at their retreating backs until they disappeared around the corner. The second the footsteps faded, they turned to each other. It didn’t take long for the dam to break; laughter bubbled out of them both, filling the palace halls with the joyful sound.

Loki wiped a tear from his eye, leaning up and back against the wall. Their giggles trickled off until Thor was left standing there, smiling from ear to ear.

“I should see myself to my chambers— tomorrow is not that far away,” Thor told him.

Loki thought tomorrow seemed an eternity away, but he didn’t protest. After all, they had a lifetime.


	12. beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, i'm not a poet, okay?  
> but i did art to compliment it.  
> for like a storybook thing.   
> :')

in the beginning  
there were two brothers  
who loved each other very much.

sometimes the youngest   
would get jealous of  
how bright his brother  
could shine

who could ever love the dark  
surrounded by  
all of that  
light?

but his brother would always love him.  
and the moon would always chase the sun.


	13. departure

The wind was cool and brought with it a melancholy ambiance. Loki had traveled long and hard— traveled miles and days and years.

But, he finally found him, he always did.  

“Do you know how long I searched?” Loki asked, and was met with silence, the rustling of dead leaves. “I’m always searching, did you know that?”

There isn’t much to be said, so Loki kneels down into the soft earth beneath him. “You don’t know that,” he whispered. His lips twisted into a sad smile. “But, you always find a way to love me. Even now.”

Loki reached out to feel cold, smooth marble. He rubbed his fingers across it, soft caresses— tender for such a hardened man. On the surface, Thor’s name was engraved— dates that Loki would then engrave into his mind for the remainder of his life. The stone told him Thor had been a father, a husband, a son—

“I wish I could have known you this time.” He gave the headstone a light tap, standing up and shoving his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket, sniffing back the tears stinging his eyes.

“Until next time,” Loki told Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just saw "a star is born" and i'm emotional, so be emotional with me.


	14. enchantment

The person that answered the door was not Thor. Thor was over six feet of muscle, smiles, and sunshine. The woman in front of him was none of those things— and, of course, she was a woman.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Loki blinked at her and struggled to put on a friendly smile. It sounded like she knew him or, at the very least, recognized him. He was fairly sure that wasn’t possible. He’d only been in town for a couple of months— hardly enough time to merit the loathing glare he received.

“Thor invited me over to grade papers,” Loki told her, trying to hide his confusion. He held up a leather-bound notebook and waved it around as if to say: “ _See? Harmless!”_

She narrowed her eyes at it skeptically anyway, and Loki sighed.

It was getting awkward, the unwarranted hostility, and the fact he was loitering on Thor’s front porch. She made like she was going to slam the door right in his face but, from behind her, Thor approached, beaming from ear-to-ear and saving the day.

Loki’s heart skipped a beat, and he told himself it was from relief.

“Mr. Laufeyson! You made it,” Thor said. He settled himself beside the woman, placing his hand on the small of her back. Her entire demeanor shifted—her lips twisted into a smile, but her eyes still cut into him.

Thor navigated her out of the way so that Loki could cross the threshold. He had to physically restrain himself from shooting her a smug grin.

“Just Loki is fine,” he told Thor— or, _Mr. Odinson_ when they were both at work at the local high school. “And this is…?”

He gave a false smile and crossed his fingers, hoping Thor was about to introduce his sister.

“Oh!” Thor said brightly, he slung an arm around the woman and pressed a kiss to her blonde curls. “This is my lovely wife, Amora.”

Amora looked positively venomous, she held out her hand— the one with the sparkling rock on her wedding finger— and Loki begrudgingly took it to shake.

"A pleasure to meet you," he lied. 

\--

Once they were inside, Thor escorted him to his study and, when the door was shut, Amora didn’t follow. He wasn’t sure why seeing her reach on her tip-toes to kiss Thor’s cheek stung so bad. Loki wasn’t ashamed to admit he had a small crush on his co-worker. But, the gut-wrenching despair churning in his stomach wasn’t necessary by any means.

Sure, maybe he had fantasied about Thor inviting him over to grade papers, resulting in Thor asking him to stay for dinner. Loki would accept, of course, and afterward, he’d help with the dishes. And, Thor would bump into him as he washed and Loki dried, and they would turn, laughing, but Thor’s gaze would drop to his lips and—

“Loki?”

Loki snapped out of his daydream with a jolt. Thor was across the desk, hand frozen around a red pen, with a look of concern.

“Are you okay?”

Loki looked down at his shaking hands. It was a loaded question— if he had been asked it not even an hour ago, he could have answered. But now, everything seemed off, like the fabric of his life was unraveling at an alarming rate.

“Would you mind if I used your washroom?” Loki asked instead of answering. Thor nodded, worry still coloring his handsome face, and told him where to find it.

\--

Cold water lapped at his cheeks and eyes in splashes. It did nothing to ease the unsettling feeling making a home in his chest— aching and lonely. It didn’t make sense. Surely, he hadn’t let his silly crush go too far? He couldn’t genuinely be upset that Thor already had a family and a life.

Loki stared at his reflection and his own face seemed to mock him. He’d spent so long taming his dark curls, making sure they were combed neatly back. His outfit had taken even longer. Something practical and casual, but still nice looking. Something he would wear to a date, he tried not to remind himself.

He sighed and wiped the remaining water droplets from his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He was pathetic and perhaps Amora had reason to be suspicious of him— even if she didn’t know he’d made himself come in the shower thinking of her husband on top of him.

Loki gave himself another look in the mirror and fabricated a story of bad sushi to explain his sudden strangeness after learning Thor was married. Then he would collect his papers, apologize, and go home to eat a tub of ice cream alone.

He opened the door and nearly collided with Amora, who immediately lunged forward and wrapped her fingers around his throat. Loki, too caught off guard to defend himself, stumbled back into the bathroom.

“What are—” Loki choked out, clawing at her hand around his neck. Amora watched him struggle with the intensity of someone ready to kill.

“If you scream, I’ll make it to where you can’t,” she told him and pressed her thumb to his windpipe to prove it. Loki flinched in pain at the sudden pressure and nodded, silently pleading for her to stop.

She let up on her hold but kept him in place.

“I know why you are here.”

There were tears welling at the corner of his eyes now. He didn’t understand, and that seemed to anger her even more. Maybe she did know his most private thoughts, impossible as that seemed.

“I’m just here to grade papers,” Loki rasped out.

Amora cocked her head to the side. “You really don’t remember. Do you?”

Loki shook his head. He didn’t, he really didn’t. Whatever the hell this woman thought he knew— _he didn’t!_ He just wanted to leave; to go home and request a transfer. He wanted a quiet life, but a pang in his heart told him he wanted Thor too.

Amora gave him a fake-pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, that must be my fault,” she hissed. The pout turned into a horrible sneer and she slipped her hand from his throat to his forehead, pressing her palm hard against it. “Here, let me fix that.”

Before he could even begin to fathom what that meant— a flood of memories flashed through his mind. Both him and Thor draped in gold, red, and green. Thor and him rolling around in a bed, laughing. Thor and him, Thor and him, Thor and him— thousands of snippets of memories. More so than that—the feelings that accompanied them. Love, sorrow, loss, hope.

Love— an intense, passionate love.

Loki cradled his head in his hands, backing up against the wall and nearly sliding down it. Amora cackled, and then, suddenly, he remembered her too.

“You witch,” Loki mumbled, stumbling back up to his feet. Now, _he_ could kill _her_. “I should have recognized the wretchedness rolling off you.”

That only made Amora laugh louder; she really looked pleased as punch.

She hummed, crossing her arms. “There is the Loki I know.”

“Do you have Thor under a spell? Is that what is happening?”

Amora had the audacity to look offended. “No, he loves me. Highschool sweethearts, didn’t he tell you?”

Loki snorted, unamused, and Amora rolled her eyes.

“I should go fuck him over that desk right in front of you,” Loki told her. Her eyes went dark, threatening, like she _knew_ that Loki could— that Thor would let him.

“Stay away from him, Loki Laufeyson,” Amora warned. “He is mine.”

He wanted to argue, he wanted to tell her that Thor was not a prize to be won. But, he doubted it would do any good. Two could play her little game. In fact, two had been playing it for a very long time.

Loki shoved past her, making sure to shoulder her extra hard.

“This time, perhaps,” he called back to her and slammed the front door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? a loose plot?


	15. villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> superhero/supervillain au  
> (is this really an au?...yes, yes it is.)

Loki landed atop the building with a force great enough to send him barrel-rolling along it. It wasn’t too long after that he heard a loud thud signaling Thor had followed.

Loki smiled, a wicked thing.

“Brother, you will answer for your crimes,” Thor bellowed over the rain and wind that whipped his red cape around. Loki wished, _really_ wished, that it would smack him in the face. Thor pointed his hammer at him, a silent threat. It didn’t bother him much, he’d been struck with it enough times in his life.

“ _Crimes_?” Loki asked with a faux-disbelief. “I set those people free—”

“Enough!” His brother’s voice came as a roar, followed by a crack of thunder. “Those people were prisoners, _criminals_. Do you understand what you have done?”

Loki’s grin only stretched.

“This is not a game, brother. You are not the hero of this story.”

 _Oh_ , that hurt— perhaps worse than the inevitable blow of his hammer. Loki didn’t let his manic façade falter. He would give Thor many things, but satisfaction would not be among them.

“I never am,” Loki called back, shouting over the brewing storm.

Thor, who very much was the hero of the story, dropped his hammer and hastily made his way to Loki. He didn’t flinch because, for all his brother’s heroism, Loki knew Thor could never truly hurt him. They would chase each other all around the city day after day, week after week— an endless game of tag. But in the end, Loki would always be the one villain to slip through the mighty Thor’s fingers.

He was inches away now, rain pelting down and rolling off the tip of his nose; Loki watched the drops race each other on his brother’s skin.

“You speak in riddles,” Thor said softly, almost too quiet to hear.

Loki snorted back a laugh and turned from Thor’s intense gaze— the look held too much pity for his liking. He made his way to the rooftop door. Loki told himself he wasn’t running, it was just that the rain made his leather suit stick to him in the wrong way.

“Would I be the Trickster if I didn’t?” He asked over his shoulder. Thor followed him, blindly, like a puppy.

The stupid fool.

\--

The room behind the door was dismal at best—a solid concrete cube with a single bulb flickering the middle. It had clearly been used for storage at some point, cardboard boxes stacked on the far wall. The door clicked behind him, and Loki could tell he was not alone.

“Following me?” Loki asked though he knew Thor had. In fact, he had every intention on it happening.

“You released fifty convicts. The city could be in real danger and for what?”

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to tell Thor it was because he’d do anything for his attention, he was starved for it. But, he didn’t want to seem desperate— not in that way, at least. He was definitely going to be desperate, panting, and begging later.

He didn’t say that, though. He couldn’t.

“A bit of fun,” he replied with snake-like charm. “I was bored.”

Thor glared at him and it only made Loki’s blood pump faster.

“You look like you could use a bit of fun, actually,” Loki said slowly, making his intent clear.

That was all it took to have his brother on him, pawing at the zipper of his leather body-suit. He leaned up to capture Thor’s mouth with his own, hot and eager to part for him, enough for Loki to slide his tongue in. It was a filthy kiss, too many teeth, too much pushing and pulling. Loki cherished every second of it.

Loki broke away, panting into the space between them; there was a smile threatening to tug on his lips. “I’m going to leap off the side of this building, there is a ledge and I’ll jimmy the window, pop in and make my escape.”

Thor slid his hands up and down Loki’s sides, nodding. Loki wasn’t exactly sure he was even processing what was being told to him, but he sighed and continued anyway.

“But, before that,” he said lowly, directly into the shell of Thor’s ear. “You’re going to fuck me so hard I feel you for days. I need to be punished after all,” Loki whispered, pouting and blinking his eyes. “Don’t I?”

Thor growled, low and feral, and seized Loki into another searing kiss, yanking at the zipper of his suit and peeling it from his wet skin. Loki smiled at his victory.

Thor was the hero— but Loki would always be his Achilles’ heel.


	16. stowaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ implied underage? kinda, honestly, its up to you how you interpret it. ]

“Captain! We found a stowaway!”

Loki turned from his station at the helm and watched as a lively, kicking boy was hauled up and thrown before his feet. He raised his brow, forcing his face to remain neutral and unamused. It was hard to do though, with a young princeling so close to the toe of his boot.

The boy, Prince Thor, looked up at him from a curtain of dirty blonde hair. There was a trickle of blood running from his nose, already crusting at the edges. That told Loki no one else recognized him— his fellow pirates didn’t take kindly to royalty. He would have been much worse off than a bloodied nose.

Loki bent to his knee and took the boy’s face in his hand, jerking it roughly up to face him. It was unmistakably the prince—freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, his eyes bluer than the sea they bobbed on, his cheeks still plump with youth. 

Thor spoke first.

“Let me work for you, I am a hard laborer, honest—”

Loki reached down and snatched up Thor’s hand, bringing it to eye-level and splaying the chubby, soft fingers for display. They were unmarred, pink and rosy.

“You look as though you have never done a hard day’s work in your life,” Loki noted, dropping Thor’s hand and standing. He jerked his head, signaling to Thor to follow suit, and he did— scrambling up and standing straight with his chin pointed towards the sky. “And, there is no room on a pirate’s ship for honesty.”

That seemed to throw Thor off. A flight of panic flashed over his face, like he was afraid Loki would toss him straight into the ocean’s cruel grasp. Loki let his lips quirk at the corners, a tiny smile meant only for Thor.

“You are lucky,” Loki bellowed, for all the crew to hear. “I’m in need of a cabin boy.”

\--

Loki escorted them both back to his quarters. The crew had hollered and shouted lewd things behind them, all of which they both ignored. But, when Loki closed the door behind them, he could see Thor’s ears were flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Ignore them,” Loki said casually and made his way to his desk to pour a glass of rum. He noticed Thor staring, watching intensely as Loki threw back the glass, amber liquid disappearing in three easy gulps. 

“No, you cannot have any. I hardly think you are old enough.”

“I am to be a pirate—” Thor protested, but Loki cut him off.

“You are to be a cabin boy.” A moment of silence passed between them, where Thor promptly snapped his mouth shut at Loki’s irritation.

“Prince Thor,” Loki added with a devious smile.

Thor bristled, obvious panic setting in. It made Loki laugh, he couldn’t help it. He poured another drink, but this time offered it to Thor, who took it and attempted to drink it in haste as Loki had done. Most ended up in a dribble down his chin, but Loki was impressed he managed to keep it down at all.

“Don’t worry that pretty little head,” Loki cooed, and took note of the way the blush crept from his ears to his cheeks. “I have no intention of letting the others know who you are.”

Thor held the empty glass out and, against Loki’s better judgment, he topped it off.

“Thank you, sir— Captain, I mean,” Thor sputtered, “and thank you for not making me walk the plank.”

Loki barked out a laugh at that, and Thor, embarrassed, buried his face in his glass, drinking it down.

“That is a rumor spread by the folk who have never met a pirate a day in their life,” Loki told him. Thor seemed to visibly ease. “We just toss them overboard, no plank necessary.”

Thor’s eyes went wide, and Loki couldn’t help but laugh again, hiding the gesture in the crook of his arm until his shoulders shook. The young prince was not amused in the slightest, he pouted like a petulant child, drops of rum clinging to his lips— and the image only served to further Loki’s amusement.

It was all absurd, really. The Crown Prince standing in the middle of his cabin while they were already a week out into the sea.

“What are you doing here, little prince?” Loki hummed.

Thor shuffled on his feet. “I wanted one more adventure before,” his blue eyes shifted, landing anywhere but Loki. His face was completely red now, but Loki suspected that was from the alcohol.

“They want to see me married!” Thor blurted out, exasperated and scandalized. Loki’s face didn’t so much as twitch. He was a young prince, but not too young to arrange a marriage to solidify political ties.

“So, you ran away to become a pirate?” Loki asked, then deadpanned: “Why?”

Thor inched closer, a sway to his step— foreign to the consumption of such a heavy rum. Boldly, he reached out with trembling fingers and tugged on the sleeve of Loki’s tunic.

“I saw you down at the wharf,” Thor said quietly. “You looked so beautiful, so I followed you.”

Loki Laufeyson had been called many things in his life— scoundrel, thief, crook, silver-tongued, liar. But, never beautiful. At least, not by someone he wasn’t paying to do so. It wasn’t that he was an atrocious beast, he considered himself vain. It was just there was no room in his life for such silly sentiments.

It should have concerned him that his heart immediately began making room.

Still, this was a boy with a crush— and the son of the King, who would be searching all the seas and lands for his missing heir.

Loki wasn’t sure what Thor mistook his silence for, but he dropped his hand and clasped them beneath his chin. “Please, Captain, let me stay—I’ll be good.”

Loki closed his eyes and groaned at that, holding up a hand to stop any more innocent words from falling out, innocent words that his treacherous mind would no doubt twist.

“Fine,” he gritted out and Loki could practically hear the smile radiating from Thor. He forced his eyes open to look at him and found he wasn’t wrong. There was a grin stretched over Thor’s face, lopsided from the drink.

“But,” Loki held up a finger, “you must know that it will be many years before we return to your home. You may return a man.”

Thor nodded his head eagerly, he couldn’t be more than sixteen years of age— he wouldn’t see his kingdom or family again until well into his twenties. That was if King Odin didn’t catch them first.

“And you must never tell anyone who you are,” Loki said sternly, and reached out to ground him firm with a hand on each shoulder. “They will surely kill you, and then perhaps kill me for letting you live.”

Another feverish nod.

“Who will I be?” Thor asked him.

Loki thought on that, letting his hand drift from its place on his shoulder to Thor’s cheek, cradling his face in his hand. Thor nuzzled into it, easily, like he was meant to.

“You’ll be mine.”


	17. creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> halloween spooks. some light gore.

When Loki was but a boy, he had an imaginary friend, as most young children do. It was a nameless thing, a phantom that little boy would chase around the gardens. His tutor worried for him and made mention several times to Loki’s parents, but it was always the same.

"He will grow out of it."

\--

Anyone that came in contact with the youngest Laufeyson knew he was a bright boy. At sixteen he excelled in his lessons, and the future in medicine his father had so carefully crafted seemed promising.

But, Loki favored the arts. For, though he was clever and smart, he was also creative and talented.

In his free time, he sat in the garden, sketching the same man over and over. His father frowned and dismissed the illustrations with a wave of his hand. His mother smiled, polite and fake, and asked who it was in the pictures. Loki would just shrug.

He didn’t know.

\--

The obsession with the nameless man grew and, by the time he was accepted into the medical school of his father’s choosing, he had filled hundreds of leather-bound books with the man’s face. Thousands of sketches of him laughing, smiling, crying, sleeping, clothed in strange garb, and not clothed at all.

It was one night, nearing his graduation, that he bolted up from a dead sleep with a name on his lips.

 _Thor_.

\--

Loki had only been Dr. Laufeyson for five years when he finally saw Thor— laying broken and cold on a sheet of metal. His heart had stopped beating in his chest. He knew that face, he’d sketched it thousands of times. That face haunted his nightmares and gave the sweetest pleasures to his dreams.

He reached out with a shaking hand and traced the line of his nose, caressed the postmortem swells of his cheeks, poked at blue lips. A large portion of his head was missing, taking an eye that Loki knew was blue. One of his arms was gone, one of his legs, a clean sever right through his gut had him nearly in two.

Carriage accident, his report read. Loki snorted at the file because the carnage before him seemed rather excessive for something so menial.

He fit the sheet back over Thor’s body and formed a plan.

\--

It didn’t take longs for rumors of him going mad to spread. In fact, all it took was a missing body from the morgue and a series of grave-robbing to get the gossip mill churning.

It was a dirty job, but a necessary one. One that took painstaking weeks and careful practice to keep the flesh from turning to rot and mush.

But, Dr. Laufeyson wasn’t one to give up and he stood over his creation, wiping his hands on his apron, with a satisfied smile.

Thor lay on the wooden slab, discolored flesh patchworked together. A new forehead, a new arm, a new leg, thick stitches keeping him together. Though finding an eye to suit him was tedious and in the end, Loki opted for an eyepatch.

Thunder cracked in the distance, and Loki hooked clamps to the bolts fashioned into the sides of Thor’s neck. Rushing to the window, he eagerly awaited the oncoming storm— the rain was already beating down. Then, suddenly, lightning streaked across the skin and with it, a streak of adrenaline in Loki’s veins.

He’d dreamt of this moment— Thor, covered in crackling, blue electricity. Godlike.

The next time lightning struck, it was against the metal rod Loki had constructed on the roof of his laboratory. It sent sparks flying, the clamps along Thor’s neck flickered.

Loki waited impatiently at the head of the table. Another strike, and then another. Finally, there was a twitch in Thor’s fingers and Loki sucked in a breath. He watched for signs of life and found them in small gestures. A twitch, a spasm, a grunt, a moan.

His creature was horrifying, and yet beautiful. And, Dr. Laufeyson loved him terribly. It was a perfect marriage of his craft and artistry. 

Thor’s eye fluttered open and it was the exact shade of blue Loki had imagined. He looked down at his creation, smiling fondly. The man-shaped monster let out a pained gurgle— jaw set tight from rigor mortis.

“Hello, Thor.”


	18. lucky

“Next!”

The man across from him shuffled off, looking a bit disgruntled at Loki’s obvious lack of interest. He’d already swept through five guys and one very determined girl. No one gave him that spark, so it really couldn’t be helped that he yawned a strummed his fingers as his dates spoke to him in rushed bursts of information.

It wasn’t that he was looking for love, more like a quick fuck with someone that he had a connection with— for once. But, it appeared to be a lost cause. He would give it one more attempt, then call an Uber to take him to the bar on 4th street and he’d hook-up the old-fashion way.

Loki already had his phone out— his optimism wasn’t high— and didn’t bother to look up when the next speed-dater slid in the seat across from him. He looked up and promptly pocketed his phone. It looked like he wouldn’t need that Uber after all.

“Thor,” the man said, smiling and holding out his hand.

Loki took it, graciously.

“Loki. So, tell me about yourself?" 

As if he didn't already know him inside and out.


	19. flowers

“How much for that one?”

Loki looked up from his arrangement, a sprig of baby’s breath poised in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Unusual, really, for him.

He didn’t always remember Thor, not right off the bat. There was always that small ache in his heart, an emptiness he could never fill, always searching for something without a name. Most of the time, the second Thor waltzed back into his life, he remembered. Everything.

The memories appeared in his mind as though they had always been there, and Loki’s stomach coiled tight.

He looked down at the spring bouquet he’d been working on all morning—it was for a customer, but he would whip her up another one. Loki was prepared to give Thor anything he wanted.

“On the house,” Loki said with a sweet smile.

Thor looked stunned, which, honestly, was a great look for him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Loki parroted, tucking away the finishing touches and scooting the vase to Thor, who took it graciously.

“Thank you, seriously,” Thor breathed out, a wide grin on his face. Loki felt a flutter in his stomach to know he was the one that put it there.

Now, for some smooth line about how he could buy him coffee—

“My wife will love them!”

Loki’s mouth snapped shut and the butterflies turned to lead.

“Oh, right, I hope that she does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter he was lucky, this time...not so much. sometimes you jump the gun and that's just the way it is. :')


	20. service

The gold was cool beneath his palm, sleek and smooth and radiating a power that Loki had always been hungry for. He sunk into it, letting that control envelop him. The title of King belonged to him now, rightfully so— it was _his_.

There was also something else that was his.

“Brother, step forward.”

Thor, looking every bit disgruntled as he had during the coronation, obeyed. Hands bound in shackles at his front, he had a determined, promising look in his eye. It lit a fire in Loki’s gut, one that the throne never could.

He tilted his head and quirked an amused brow.

“Kneel.”

Not a request, but a command.

Thor’s arms jerked so that the chains rattled and echoed through the throne room. Loki knew that it was purposely done to show him it was the only reason he was obliging so easily. It made Loki grin, lips curling back to reveal teeth. Teeth that would be on every inch of that golden skin later.

His brother knelt before him and— oh, it _was_ a pretty sight.

“Come now, brother,” Loki breathed out, harsh and twisted as the tortuous memories that held their talons in his mind and heart. He let his legs go slack, opening wide in a lewd display. “Aren’t you going to service your King?”


	21. socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to be in chicago for two days, so the next entries are gonna be really short. so i figured i'd give you some lengthy (for this series) smut beforehand.

There was a sock on the doorknob to their dorm room.

That was fine, his step-brother-turned-roommate could take home whoever he wanted. _It was fine_.

Except for the small, tiny fact that Thor’s bed had broke and they were currently sharing the twin until their parents could make it down to replace it. So, Thor had better been getting busy on the floor, or that’s where he would be sleeping for the remainder of the weekend.

There was also the small problem of Loki’s laptop, which held his thesis paper, which he _needed_ to work on.  

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He reached out and let his hand hover over the handle. “Fuck.”

And, that was probably what Thor was doing— fucking some pretty little thing in their bed. No, _his_ bed, that they were sharing. He couldn’t start thinking of it as their bed. That was dangerous, not to mention, ludicrous.

Loki tried not to think about it, tried not to picture some dark-haired girl straddled on top of his brother, hair falling into her face as she rode him, panting and chanting his name like a prayer. Then, without warning, the girl in his mind threw her head back and it was suddenly not a girl at all— it was him.

“Fuck,” he repeated. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

He needed to get the hell out of there, go to the library, or the park, or the bar— rent a room so he didn’t have to spend another night pressed up against Thor. That was the only reason these thoughts were happening; his mind couldn’t tell the difference between warm bodies.

Loki needed to get laid, that was it. But, he also needed his laptop, which was a true tragedy.

He sighed, collected himself, and ripped the sock from the knob. Three loud knocks, Loki assumed that was a fair enough warning. He waited a couple minutes before opening the door, hand over his eyes, hoping he gave his brother ample time to get decent.

“Sorry, I need my laptop, I’ll just…” Loki blindly ran into a desk, and he heard Thor chuckle.

“You can open your eyes,” Thor said nervously. He didn’t sound out of breath or fucked out, or anything. Just…timid.

Perhaps his date didn’t go as planned.

Slowly, Loki lowered his hand and cracked open an eye. Thor was sitting on the bed, fully clothed, but he looked nice— like he was about to go on a date. His hair was pulled back neatly, he’d broken out his nicer jeans, and Loki could smell the cologne he’d bought him for Christmas.

Loki blinked, dumbly.

“There…was… a sock,” Loki stammered and looked back to the door, pointing. The sock was their code for having _company_. But, there was no company to be seen. Unless—

“Is there someone under the bed?”

Thor stared at him, confused, before finally picking up what Loki was putting down.

“No, no, there is no one here,” Thor said. “Just me and you.”

Loki slowly walked to his desk but didn’t let his gaze wander from his brother who was acting more peculiar than usual. He eyed him, cautiously— the way he glared at the floor, the way he wiped his palms on his jeans, the way his leg bounced up and down, the way his throat worked a dry swallow.

“What is wrong with you? Do you have a big date?”

“Maybe,” Thor replied, but he came out a pained grumble. “If this goes well, maybe.”

Loki studied him for a moment. He couldn’t imagine Thor’s advances not going well. His step-brother was handsome, or at least now he was. Loki still remembered the gangly pre-teen he met the day their parents wed.

He couldn’t understand why Thor was a nervous wreck but supposed the brotherly thing to do would be to comfort him. So, Loki moved to give him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. Thor looked at Loki’s hand like it was a thousand degrees too hot.

Peculiar.

“Well then,” Loki harrumphed, and turned to walk away, but a hand shot out and took hold of his wrist. It was his turn to look at Thor with shock, and his eyes traced over his brother’s concerned features, down the path of muscled arms, and to the place where they were joined at the touch.

“Thor— what?”  

Loki let out an undignified squeak as he was tugged down to Thor’s level, inches from his face. Those blue eyes were on his lips now, and Loki licked them under the scrutiny. There was a tiny hitch in Thor’s breath as he did so, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

“Oh,” he breathed out, and Thor adverted his eyes. “ _Oh_.”

Loki looked down at him fondly, shook his hand loose from Thor’s grasp, and brought it to cup his cheek and tilt his head upward.

“Loki,” Thor started, but Loki silenced him with a kiss.

It was soft and slow, not how Loki was used to kissing— if he even kissed at all. But, he wanted to savor the feeling of Thor’s lips on his, wanted to savor the taste of him, burn it into his memory in case he snapped out this dream.

He pulled back slowly, searching for any trace of regret. He found none. It was all the permission Loki needed to dive back down, with more haste than before, pressing fevered kisses to the seam of Thor’s mouth, who parted his lips willingly.

Thor’s hands settled on his hips, dragging Loki down onto his lap. It was easy to slot himself on Thor’s thick legs, it was like they were made for him to do so. Wordlessly, Loki pushed him back until his back lay flat on the mattress, his feet still planted firmly on the ground. It wasn’t ideal, but it made it easier for Loki to crawl over him, pressing kisses to his chest, up his neck, along his jaw, back to his mouth.

“How long?” Thor gasped out, right as Loki's hand trailed down to allow his fingers to dip beneath the band of Thor’s pants. His hips canted upwards and Loki smiled at his brother’s desperation.

“What?” Loki was much more concerned with pulling Thor’s shirt over his head. Thor let him tug it off with a grunt; and then, a disapproving whine when Loki tossed it over his shoulder only for it to land in the trash can.

“How long have you wanted this?” Thor tried again.

Loki’s fingers stopped working at the buttons of Thor’s pants. He glanced up, immediately bashful— ashamed at Thor finding out the truth. He could lie, of course, he was pretty good at that. But, there was something about that loving, trusting gaze that made him want to be honest.

“Since I can remember,” Loki whispered, and he hoped Thor didn’t recoil.

They were young when their parents wed, each around eight. They’d grown up together, played together, called each other brother. And, Loki had always known he loved Thor but, there was a difference between that and going for a tumble as a college experiment.

Thor didn’t look disgusted, he didn’t shove Loki off, he didn’t pull his fist back to deck him in the nose. No, he looked happy— relieved.

“Me too,” he said with a lopsided smile.

Loki’s brain couldn’t process that information. If he tried, it would surely short-circuit. But, the words lit a new fire in his veins, awakening something feral. His fingers worked quicker on Thor’s pants, but still not quick enough.

“Get these off,” Loki growled. In a perfect world, he would take his time stripping Thor piece by piece. Then they would roll together languidly in the sheets until they were both spent and exhausted, trading lazy kisses.

But, this wasn’t a perfect world and Loki was desperate, hard, and had a thesis paper due at 9 am.

He stood and, as if on instinct, Thor reached to pull him back down. Loki pulled the sweater off in one, fluid movement, and once he started peeling off his jeans, Thor seemed to get the picture. When Loki returned to the bed, they were both stripped bare— hot skin on skin.

Loki rocked his hips down, cock bumping and sliding against Thor’s, the wet tip leaving a trail. It was a small gesture, but it was almost too much, while simultaneously not being enough at all. Thor groaned, throwing his head back, and Loki tried to control his short, shallow breathing.

Loki took them both in his hand, and it was almost enough to send him prematurely over the edge. He gave a few slow strokes, and it had Thor bucking up into his hand— needy sounds coming from his mouth, whispers that sounded a lot like Loki’s name.

Oh, _yes_ , he could definitely come from that lust-blown look on Thor’s face—the debauchery that was his hair falling loose from the ponytail, those lips parted and panting, those eyes watching the heads of their cocks disappear in and out of Loki’s fist.

“Lube?” Loki choked out; apparently, he wasn’t in a much better state. Thor looked up at him, apologetic, and that said it all. He groaned and dropped his head—he had really wanted to fuck Thor or have Thor fuck him, he wasn’t picky.

Oh well, there was always next time.

 _Next time_ , a voice in the back of Loki’s mind repeated.

Improvising, Loki spat down between them, salvia dripping down between their cocks, slicking the way for Loki’s fist to pump faster. It wasn’t the best, but it worked well enough— enough that it had him grinding his hips down with every stroke, edging closer.

“Loki, _fuck_ , Loki,” Thor chanted, keening under Loki’s touch. There was a thin sheen of sweat along his brow, teeth bared and hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets. “I’m—”

Thor came in hot spurts over Loki’s knuckles, and Loki worked him through it. Just the image of his own cock slicked from root to tip in Thor’s come was enough to have him following, shooting stripes along his belly.

Loki collapsed against him, panting, but smiling wide. Thor reached down and pulled him up, dragging Loki through the sticky mess between them. He wasn’t in the mood to complain or tease though, bliss taking over his typical smarminess.

Thor reached up, carding fingers through Loki’s now sweaty hair. It was an intimate gesture, one that filled his heart to the brim with emotions he’d tried to keep suppressed for far too long. Loki nuzzled into the crook of Thor’s arm, breathed in the scent of him. It smelled like home.

“You’re an idiot,” Loki said, muffled by Thor’s bare chest.

“Yeah?” He could hear the smile in the response. “You’re probably right.”

“I usually am.”

“Okay,” Thor said. “Humor me. Why?”

“You put the sock on the door. What if I hadn’t come in?”

Loki looked up just in time to see the blush on Thor’s cheeks. They were laying there naked, covered in each other’s spend, yet _that_ made him blush.

“I was still trying to get up my nerve, I was trying to buy some time. But—”

Loki laughed, and leaned up, angling himself so that his face was hanging over Thor’s.

“You’re an idiot.”

Thor smiled, and Loki kissed him sweetly.

“But, so am I.”


	22. tired

Loki drew the dusty curtains hanging on the hotel’s windows back. The sun was still hanging low in the sky, pale morning hues washing over the city already bustling with life. 

A man on the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, talked animatedly with waving hands. Thor, Loki could tell even from the thirteenth floor. Typically, that was the moment his heart would jump and he’d drop whatever he was doing to run to him.

Not this time.

Loki felt nothing. Well, not nothing. He felt tired.

Sighing, he drew the curtains closed and flopped into bed.


	23. resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a very loose x-files au. this comes a little late. and by a little late, i mean a lot late. i'm sorry! this is also a rehashed version of something i scrapped a while back. (hey, if wisterings can do it, i can too, right??)

_It’s depressing_ — that was Loki’ initial reaction.

The walls were painted a horrid eggshell, chipped and peeling in too many places; the floor tiles were scuffed and dirty like they hadn’t seen a good buffering in decades; there was a cheap framed picture of some generic country-side scene hanging crooked. And, all of those elements were brought together under a faulty, flickering fluorescent light.

You make one tiny mistake and you’re banished to the Shadowlands, it seemed. In this particular case, _the Shadowlands_ was a codename for the X-Files office, or as the sane members of the FBI called it— the _Tin-Hat Division_.

Honestly, demoting him to custodian would have allowed him to keep more of his dignity.

Loki sighed heavily and shifted on his feet, readjusting the cardboard box filled with the personal items from his desk—his _old_ desk, that had been in his _old_ office. He stared at the door in front of him in defeat, not sure exactly was behind it.

Whatever _it_ was, it was to be his new office— it couldn’t be worse than the basement corridor he was already in.

\--

He was wrong. It was so much worse.

The room was tiny, almost a closet space. There were books, files, and loose papers strolled on every surface with about five filing cabinets there were obviously not being put to use. The walls weren’t exempt from the paper madness, articles and newspaper clippings were tacked haphazardly, some with an actual red string connecting each other.

Then, worst of all, was the poster of a blurry UFO above a tree line with the words “I want to believe”. Beneath it sat a man at a cluttered desk hunched over a scattering of, yeah, more papers, utterly oblivious to Loki entering the room at all.

He knew him, of course, the entire building did: Agent Odinson. He had spearheaded the X-Files division, intent on wasting government funds on ghost stories and alien abductions. 

Loki cleared his throat and the man spun around in his chair, wide-eyed and confused for a brief moment until a click of realization. His face split into a wide grin that made his eyes crinkle in the corners, toothy and bright.

Handsome, that that wasn’t the point.

“Thor Odinson,” he said, and rose from his desk with an outstretched hand. “You must be my new partner.”

Loki stared down at the proffered hand, then glanced back up to Thor’s face— which was still practically glowing— then looked back down to his own hands which were preoccupied with holding his shameful box of belongings.

“I’m a little full,” Loki told him. He’d set it down, but there didn’t really seem to be a surface that wasn’t already buried.

“Oh, right!” Odinson frantically looked around, eyes finally settling on a desk Loki wouldn’t have noticed otherwise, and he cleared it hastily by moving the mess to a different area of mess, making an even _bigger_ pile of mess.

First thing of Loki’ new to-do list was organization. It wasn’t like he’d be working on any real cases—he’d probably be filing papers until he retired if he was lucky.

Thor plucked the box from his hands and sat it on the now clear desk and stepped back with his hands on his hips to admire his handiwork. He looked back, smile still intact, though it immediately faded when he caught sight of Loki’ face— he couldn’t help that he was grimacing.

“Thank you,” Loki managed, and it returned some of the warmth to Thor’s expression.

He was being watched as he eased over to the desk, picking out the items and arranging them neatly: a potted cactus, a stapler, a cup of pens, a paperweight. He frowned when he reached in the box to find it empty. So much for personal flair.

“It’s Agent Laufeyson, right?”

Loki hummed a confirmation under his breath and sat down in his new chair. It gave a loud whine beneath his weight and was most definitely not as comfortable as his old one. He bounced up and down to test its durability and it squeaked with every motion. Then he moved on to the table, smoothing his palms out on the wood. It was rough beneath his touch and lined with grooves from years of pens scribbling at papers on its surface.

He could still feel eyes on him, and sure enough, Thor was watching him quietly. There was no smile left on his face.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” he said, and Loki wasn’t sure if he imagined the resignation in his voice. “But, you are, so let’s make the best of it.”

That set off a spark of anger within him. Every instinct in his body told him to argue, but he clamped his mouth shut tight. The Captain saw moving him to the X-Files office as a mercy— he’d hate to see what would happen if he fucked even this up. Suspension, no doubt.

So instead, Loki bit his tongue.

“Of course.”

\--

Loki asked him if he could clean up a bit, and Thor had dipped his head in embarrassment and offered to help— which Loki politely declined. The space was too small and too cramped to be bumping up against Odinson the entire afternoon.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find Thor attractive.  He was tall and thick with muscle, light close-cropped hair, and blue eyes, and a radiant smile. It was too bad his head was a bag full of cats.

He couldn’t really blame the guy, with that many case files lying around, it’d drive anyone nuts.

Loki picked up a folder labeled “ _Wendigo”_ and placed it in his _W_ pile. He really wished that was the weirdest one he’d seen.

“You don’t really believe this stuff, do you?” He asked, flipping through the folder’s content. Missing girl camping the woods, bloody boot found, that’s it— no body. Typical homicide stuff, really.

Thor swiveled around in his chair with a frown on his face and his brows pinched together tight. Loki really couldn’t believe _he_ was the one being scrutinized.

“I mean, wendigos?” Loki flapped the file in his face and Thor reached with deft fingers, snatching it away. He cradled it to his chest like it was precious.

“I said you could clean, not mock me, Agent.”

Loki raised his hands in surrender.

Fine.

They worked in silence—Loki organizing and Thor…doing whatever it was he was doing. Loki had enough sense not to ask. He was polite enough not to let Thor notice his eyes flicking to the clock that acted as a countdown until he would be free to go home to his flat and have a stiff drink.

“Do you feel it?” Thor asked, with absolutely no context in sight.

Loki spared him a look. “Pardon?”

“Like we’ve met before?”

His hands stilled on the file in his hand—labeled ‘ _R’_ for _Resurrection._

“No,” Loki lied.


	24. games

“Oh, I—I’ll just go,” Thor excused himself, already turning a pretty shade of red.

“Nonsense, we’ve taken our bath together before.”

Loki stretched out his arms along the edge of the pool, beckoning his brother to come forth and Thor hesitated, holding the towel around his waist tightly. To entice, Loki lifted a slender, pale leg from the suds.

“It’s warm,” he said with a cocked head and faux-innocence. Of course, the notion that Thor’s reluctance stemmed from the water being too cold never crossed his mind.  

The bathing pool was large, large enough for five grown men. But, as Thor slid into the water, their closeness was suffocating. It didn’t help that Thor took up the space of two men himself. He’d trained himself into an impressive warrior, Loki noted.

Muscles were not the only thing his brother had gained from the training arena and battleground. There was a faint line running across his chest, a scar still red with irritation. A man like Thor would wear it with pride, but Loki found little pleasantry in the reminder of weakness.

“Allow me,” Loki said, nodding to Thor’s chest. He didn’t wait for permission— it was unlikely he would be granted it. But, this was his brother, and there was an innate duty to heal all his ailments.

Thor’s eyes stayed firm in their stoic concentration, his hands cemented to the sides of the bath. Loki could still make out the way his chest rose and fell quicker the closer he waded to him— despite Thor’s valiant effort to hide it.

Loki reached out with dripping fingers, calling forth his seidr and allowing the green wisps to trail behind his fingertips as he traced the edges of the scar. Thor shuddered a deep breath, one he had probably been holding since Loki slotted his naked body between his legs. His knuckles were white against the gold trim, and Loki tried not to look too smug.

It was a strange game of chicken they played since they were children. Of course, the objective took a more devious turn once their bodies started growing and responding. Loki would sit a little too close, Thor would hold his neck just a little too long, Loki would slide his hand just a little too high along Thor’s thigh. And, now, Loki would linger just a little too long in the bath.

One of them always broke.

“Do you have anything else I should tend to?” Loki asked, eyes heavy-lidded and finger still tracing the pattern of a scar that was no longer there.

Thor’s eyes darkened, his lips parted and—if Loki wasn’t mistaken— his hips canted upwards beneath the water. He leveled Loki was a look that screamed of challenge, and he smirked.

Oh, game on.

“Why don’t you have a look for yourself?”

Loki trained his face to appear bored, like the entire situation wasn’t setting his blood on fire. He moved his hand lower, never lifting from the wet slide of his brother’s skin. Thor’s breath hitched as a finger brushed his nipple, but Loki kept his steady descent downwards— then stopped and smiled sweetly.

“Let’s see,” Loki drew out, clicking his tongue and humming under his breath.

He raised his teasing hand to tangle in Thor’s hair, damp from the steam of the hot bath. With as much innocence as he could muster, he slowly pulled it back away from his neck. Leaning in, as if inspecting the area, he let out a small huff against Thor’s skin.

“Nothing here.”

Loki took Thor’s chin in his hand and tilted his head to do the same useless examination to the other side. Thor said nothing, but his breathing was getting heavier— deeper, louder, with flared nostrils and eyes set on Loki.

“Turn around.”

Thor obeyed without question— and, oh, Loki relished that.

He turned, exposing his back, dripping with the lavender-scented water and suds. He was thankful Thor’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see the dark flutter of his eyes as his fingers caressed hard muscle.

There were a few tiny cuts and one molted bruise beneath his shoulder blade. It took little to no effort for Loki to remedy that. But, that didn’t stop his feather-light touches teasing up and down his brother’s spine, along his sides, dipping dangerously low to his hips.

Loki pressed a slow, but chaste, kiss where he healed the bruise.

“Feel better, brother?”

Thor grunted a response.

“Oh,” Loki whispered, surprised, into the meat of Thor’s back. “Did I miss something?”

There was a small panic in his chest, Thor usually bent by now.

 _Fine_ — if that was the way he wanted to play, he could deliver.

Loki let the hand that was settled on Thor’s hip slide lower and around, and when his fingertips brushed against the soft hair at the base of Thor’s cock, they both gasped.

But, Thor didn’t stop him, so Loki kept on.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut, head dropping to the dip between his brother’s shoulders, when he moved lower to find Thor hard beneath his touch. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hand around it as much as the size allowed.

There was a low shaky moan, and Loki realized too late it came from his own mouth.

“Thor,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop.”

_Don’t tell me to stop._

He gave an experimental stroke and Thor groaned, loud and needy. So, Loki stroked again, from base to tip, twisting at the top before dragging his fist back down. He was growing hard now, as hard as the hefty weight in his hand. Involuntarily, Loki rolled his hips forward, his cock sliding between cheeks— he choked out a sob.

“Loki,” Thor panted out, rocking back against him in time with Loki’s fist. “ _Loki_ —”

“Tell me to stop.”

Though, Loki wasn’t sure if he could. He was already embarrassingly close as he rutted against his own brother’s ass, working him with quick strokes. They were already too far gone, they had both lost. Things would be different, whether they stopped or not.

“Don’t stop,” Thor hissed.

Oh.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop _, don’t stop_.”

Loki didn’t— _couldn’t_. Thor let out a shout that made Loki’s cock jump, and he arched back into him. Being the good brother that he was, he coaxed Thor through it, peppering kisses on his shoulder and up his neck.

He could feel the moment Thor softened in his hand, the way he slumped slack against him. There was another panic rising in his chest. He’d just given his brother an orgasm— but Loki’s mind couldn’t focus on that, not when he was still hard, and aching, and neglected.

As if on cue, Thor turned in Loki’s hold, reached down between them and took his cock in hand. He wasn’t even one pump in before Loki spilled, gasping and holding onto Thor for his life.

They stood there for what felt like hours, just quietly holding onto one another, desperate to keep the silence. If one of them spoke— it would all be real. Loki watched his brother’s lips as they parted slightly in an out-of-breath pant. A fleeting thought of _I want to kiss him._

It was already too real.

“I think,” Thor said, finally, with a crooked smile, “I think that we lost.”

All of Loki’s panic dissipated, and he laughed, burying his head into Thor’s shoulder. He kissed the skin he found there.

“Perhaps we won.”


	25. portrait

“It is astounding!”

Lord Odinson beamed, fingers stretched towards the canvas. Loki clicked his tongue and stopped the action before he could rake his hand through the still-wet paint. The young Lord ducked his head sheepishly at being chastised.

“I am delighted you approve,” Loki told him with a tight smile.

Turning to his creation, Loki studied the portrait alongside Lord Odinson. He was quite proud of it, though his specialty was in landscape. There wasn’t a bone in his body that would allow him to decline a commission from Odinson.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” he breathed out, and Loki smiled again— but this one was full of pride.

It very well should have been, Loki had spent eons marveling at him to get it right.


	26. family

Mornings were chaos, typically, _always_. But, Friday mornings were the worst. Everyone was eager for the weekend, exhausted from the week, and full of delirious energy.

Perhaps, that's why his husband was currently burning the toast.

“Thor,” Loki warned, and lifted the pan of scrambled eggs just in time for the pitter-patter of a tiny child to scurry past him— nearly missing his son’s head. The boy clambered into a kitchen chair, along with his sister (who sat poised like the little angel she was).

Thor plucked the piece of toast from the toaster, it was only slightly burnt. Salvageable. Luckily, their son was a human garbage disposal; he’d have no qualms with a little char on the edges.

Getting their kids to eat wasn’t the problem but scooting them out the door for the bus was another adventure entirely. Their daughter forgot her favorite pen— the one with the fuzzy ball of fur on the end— upstairs and had to run upstairs to get it. An emergency of the highest caliber. Then, their son had to use the bathroom, and wash his hands, and inspect his hair, and _oops dad, I forgot to brush my teeth_!

But, eventually, they ran out of excuses. Which was lucky, because Loki was certainly running out of patience. Thor saw them to the end of the driveway, a child in each hand, swinging their arms wildly as the yellow bus rounded the corner.

Loki propped himself on the banister of their porch, lifted his mug to his lips, and smiled.


	27. secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw! underage (thor is seventeen, loki is in his thirties). i used jord as thor's mother, because using frigga seemed strange. anyway! yep. here it is.

Moving in with Jord had been an easy decision.

They’d only been dating three months, but Loki’s lease was up, and she needed help with bills after her husband had up and split two years prior. Plus, he liked her. There was something familiar in the way she laughed, the way she softly snored, in the blue of her eyes and gold of her hair.

It hadn’t been a hard decision at all.

“There is something I need to tell you,” she said to him, leaning across the creaky laminate of some roadside diner. “I have a son.”

Loki blinked and wondered how in the hell something that important hadn’t come up. It seemed like a big detail to gloss over.

“I didn’t want to scare you off. Is that okay?”

What was he supposed to say? The truth? That wasn’t very on-brand for him. He opted for a lie.

“Of course, I love kids. How old is it?”

Jord snorted back a laugh and took his hands in hers. She looked pretty under the fluorescent lights— which was impressive, seeing that wasn’t an easy thing to pull off. He smiled, the doubt in his mind easing away. He could handle a kid.

“Loki, darling, you aren’t very convincing when you call my son _it_ ,” Jord said, teasing. There was no offense or malice present at all, just warm humor like always. “His name is Thor, he’s seventeen.”

Oh, a teenager. That had to be better than diapers and constant wailing, right?

“Thor,” Loki tested the name on his tongue. It fit on his lips perfectly, and something strange tugged at his heart. “I look forward to meeting him.”

\--

Thor was insufferable.

Like his mother, he was beautiful; golden skin, blue eyes, laughter that rang like a bell, an unholy magnetism. From the second Thor laid eyes on him at the top of the stairs, he had felt it. A pull; a dangerous, dangerous pull.

Loki sat on the couch, flipping through the channels, mindless with a stale expression. He almost didn’t look up when Thor sauntered down the stairs and leaned against the doorframe of the living area— staring with a wicked little smirk, red-cherry sucker between his teeth.

“Thor,” Loki greeted with a small nod of his head. He was wrong in his assumption that babies were worse. At least you didn’t have to attempt to conversate with them.

Babies also didn’t wear tight t-shirts and sweatpants, or twirl candy between their lips.

Thor didn’t say much, just shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgment and continued to stare, pulling the sucker out with a loud pop. It was enough to get Loki’s attention, eyes concentrating hard when Thor popped it back in his mouth and out, giving it a tentative lick with innocent eyes.

It was suddenly too hot— much too hot. Loki could feel sweet pricking at his temple. There was also an uncomfortable swelling in his pants, something he couldn’t deny. It took a gratuitous effort not to palm his cock right there.

He needed a distraction.

But, _oh_ , Thor was walking towards him— narrow hips swaying, and he plopped down on the couch, legs sprawled open. 

 _Inviting_ , Loki’s mind supplied.

Turned out, Thor sitting inches from him was not the distraction he needed. Especially with Thor still leveling him with that look that, up close, Loki could swear was lust. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, as they appraised him. His lips were plump and red from the candy, and Loki wanted nothing more than to kiss off all the sugar and sweet.

Then, Thor was leaning into him, close enough that his breath tickled Loki’s cheek when he spoke:

“Are you going to be my new daddy?”

\--

Later that night, after taking a vigorously cold shower, he let Jord climb on top of him. Beautiful in the moonlight, she rode him with slow rolls of her hips. In the shadows, Loki’s mind played tricks on him. As she worked herself up and down, gaining speed, faltering her rhythm, he could have sworn she looked just like Thor.

That thought alone made him come harder than he had in months.

\--

After the first time, Loki always closed his eyes as he fucked her. He felt shame—because she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a man who closed his eyes and thought of her seventeen-year-old son.

A short three weeks later, Loki looked across the kitchen table at the woman he had loved and felt nothing.

But, he couldn’t leave— because in between them was Thor. Quietly eating cereal while he purposely knocked his foot against the inside of Loki’s leg.

And, Loki loved him.

\--

It all seemed to be a game to Thor.

He would stalk across the living room fresh out of the shower, dripping wet, with only a towel around his waist. He’d make sure to lock eyes with Loki at least once, giving him a shy, but teasing smile. He would reach over Loki at the dinner table, brushing up against him and filling Loki with his scent. He would ask Loki to watch a movie and then stretch out with his feet in Loki’s lap, toes pressing and kneading into the soft meat of his thigh until he was so hard he had to excuse himself.

It was a game, but Loki wasn’t sure he could win.

\--

It all broke down when Thor, once again, suggested a movie.

Jord was working late, and it was a weekend, so neither of them had anything better to do. The logical part of Loki’s brain told him to decline. He remembered what happened last time— a quick, muffled jerk-off session in the downstairs bathroom.

He didn’t decline though, and so, he found himself on the far side of the couch, lights off and a fresh bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

“You’ll like this one, it’s scary,” Thor told him. Loki just smiled, he doubted he would be able to pay attention enough to get spooked.

Thor settled in next to him, fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Loki let out a soft grunt as Thor leaned down and made himself comfortable with his head in his lap. There was a brief moment of shock, a little voice telling Loki to move him, to make him sit on the other side.

He should, he should stop it.

But he didn't, just gave Thor a pat on the shoulder, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. Thor watched the screen and Loki watched the way the lights reflected off his perfect profile.

 _Shit_.

\--

He was right in his assumption that he wouldn’t retain any of the movie. Somewhere in the middle of the film, Loki’s fingers had tangled in Thor’s hair, stroking gently and Thor nuzzled his head in closer to Loki’s lap.

It couldn’t be helped when his cock twitched, and Loki’s fingers stilled as he watched Thor’s face for any sign of reaction. Looking down at Thor with his perfect face laying right over his lap was a bad idea. There was another throb in his pants, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to disappear.

Something flickered across Thor’s face, and before Loki could process what it was, he was turning his cheek, pressing his nose into the semi-hard line of Loki’s cock.

“Thor,” Loki breathed out. Because he should stop this, he really should. But, then Thor mouthed at the denim, filthy and desperate, zipper clinking against his teeth. He tightened the hold in his hair— one part telling him to pull him off, the other part telling him to press him down.

A war was waging inside, but Thor called the final shot. He pulled back just enough to get a hand on the zipper, tugging down.

Turning back was no longer an option. Not when Thor was mouthing with hot, damp breaths along his boxer briefs. His cock was already filling, hard and rigid as Thor's mouth moved along the fabric, sucking and nosing until Loki was panting.

Thor looked up at him, a question in his eyes but not on his lips. Loki nodded to him, afraid of his own desperation if he made his plea vocal.

That was all it took for Thor to pull out his cock, and Loki hissed out a moan when he gripped the base tight and gave a long, slow lick from bottom to tip, sucking the head between his lips. Resisting the urge to buck up into the welcoming heat was difficult. Because he wanted nothing more than to fuck that pliant mouth until it was swollen and stretched, sloppy with spit. But, that was for another day— he would let Thor do as he pleased.

“You’re doing so good,” Loki encouraged when Thor sank down, taking as much of Loki’s length as he could. It wasn't a lie, Thor was doing great. Taking his cock so good, bobbing up and down, in time with his hand, sucking on the sensitive head.

“Look at you,” he panted. “So hungry for it.”

Thor whined, and Loki felt it through his entire body. Thor was rutting against the sofa, needy and desperate. Loki reached around to grasp at the globe of his ass, squeezing and pulling them apart, enough to press a finger against his hole through the thick cloth of his sweatpants. Thor let out a low, guttural moan, despite his mouth being stuffed with cock.

Loki pressed again, his own pleasure building to its peak. There were tears at the corners of Thor’s eyes, and Loki kept the pressure of his fingers against his hole. He watched as Thor came undone, driving his hips into the couch, sucking Loki with fever.

“Thor, off, I’m going to—”

Thor pulled off with a pop, gasping, and working his fist up and down, slicking the way with his own spit. If he was lucky, he figured Thor would let him come on his face— but it seemed he had something else in mind. Thor opened his mouth, displaying the flat of his tongue.

The sight of him, hungry and waiting, sent Loki over the edge. He came, hot spurts catching on Thor’s waiting mouth, across his lips, along the bridge of his nose. He leaned down, lapping at the still leaking tip. If he were ten years younger, it would have sent him into round two.

With the corner of the blanket, he wiped off the streaks of white from Thor’s face. He stared up at Loki, looking far too innocent for what had just transpired. It was captivating, enchanting. Neither of them said a word, but Loki watched the clock. They didn’t have long, so he put himself back in his pants and urged Thor up, immediately tucking him under his arm.

“I wanted to do that since the first time I saw you,” Thor whispered.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Thor ducked his head, shy. “Can we do it again sometime?”

Loki sighed. He should say no. They didn’t need to repeat this mistake. Instead, he found himself saying: “If you’re good.”


	28. observe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> outsider's perspective

The Prince thought he was being slick, he thought the shawl draped over his head hid his royal lineage. He was a fool. However, she didn’t stop him from creeping in every night, shifty and suspect. Never once did she let on that she knew exactly who he was or why he was there.

The Prince wasn’t like most of her patrons, he wouldn’t pay coin to lay with just any of her girls. No, he had a particular appetite— one for the errand boy who was never meant to be part of the brothel. He paid a large sum to take Loki to bed and didn’t return until weeks after.

Then he showed up again, and then again, and then again. Until it became a nightly occurrence and she waited for him with an open palm and knowing smile.

They thought she didn’t notice— but she was the madame and she noticed everything that happened under her roof.

Loki would see the Prince to the door, the Prince would bring his hand to his lips and kiss his knuckles. They would hold on to each other a little too long, conversations passed between them without ever opening their mouths. There was always a longing, always a sadness, always a hope. When the Prince would leave, Loki’s face would drop, a melancholy cloud hovering over him.

They thought she didn’t notice— but she did.

The Prince was in love with Loki, and Loki was in love with the Prince.


	29. sabotage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluffier than the title suggests

“He’s trying to sabotage me,” Loki whined.

His week couldn’t get any worse. For starters, their theater group had decided to perform _Romeo and Juliet_ for the fall festival. Because, apparently, their president had a penchant for cliché. Then— as if matters couldn’t get any worse— he lost the lead role to said president.

Thor Odinson, the bane of his existence, the thorn in his side. He hated him, with his warm laugh, and his blue eyes, and his perfect hair, and his intoxicating scent. An absolute garbage person if Loki had ever seen one.

“I highly doubt that,” Brunnhilde countered. “I have Biology with him and he's always asking about you.”

Loki pretended that didn’t pique his interest, stabbing forcefully at the mushy peas on his lunch tray.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he wants to know why you’re such a stuck-up dick,” Brunnhilde said with a sly grin.

Loki flung a pea at her.

\--

Loki wouldn’t in a million years admit he was jealous. He wasn’t jealous. Why should he be? He was every bit the actor Thor was. Which was why it didn’t make any sense that Thor was cast as Romeo and he was stuck with Mercutio.

He watched with a bored pout from the bleachers. Thor was in a makeshift costume, looking gallant and charismatic as he rehearsed his lines with Brunnhilde— who he was kind enough to admit made for an excellent Juliet. Loki watched his lips move, but his ears couldn’t register the sound.

All he heard was _womp, womp, womp_.

“Mercutio.”

Seriously, who did he think he was? Being that charming and charismatic.

“ _Mercutio_!”

And, to top it all off, be a good actor too? It was like the universe dumped all the best genes into one human.

“Loki,” Thor called. He was standing in front of him now, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Loki blinked twice, physically shaking the thoughts from his head.

“ _What_?”

If Thor was at all bothered by his tone, he didn’t show it.

“It’s your scene,” Thor said with a smile. Loki frowned deeply. “Do you want to come on stage and rehearse with us?”

He didn’t, he really didn’t.

But, he was determined to shine brighter than Thor.

“Sure.”

\--

He was right. Thor was trying to sabotage him. Loki knew to always trust his instincts.

Everything Thor did seemed to be for the sole purpose of throwing him off his game. He would plop down next to him in the theater seats. He’d place a hand on his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. He actually picked up a coffee for him during early morning rehearsal. He graduated from shoulder pats to back pats, then from back pats to placing his hand at the small of his back. Every time it set Loki’s heart on a spastic race.

Thor Odinson was up to no good, and Loki was going to get to the bottom of it.

\--

“Hey, uhm,” Thor said, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. Loki closed his locker with a loud smack and turned to face him, bored expression despite his heart rate spiking.

They locked eyes, an awkward silence passing.

“Hello?” Loki tried.

“I was wondering if you wanted to run some lines? Brunnhilde is sick and you know, tomorrow is opening night.”

Loki blinked.

“Why me?”

Thor had the nerve to look confused.

“You’re one of the best in the group, and I know you’ve studied everyone’s part. You’re preceptive like that.”

There was a small, secret smile on his lips and it took everything in him not to let his mouth twitch into a returning one.

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” Thor’s face lit up, and _oh_ — that really made Loki want to punch him, or…

No, definitely punch him.

“I said fine.”

Thor nodded, his enthusiasm unwavering.

“Great, I’ll see you tonight.”

\--

Thor texted him a time, and Loki spent ten minutes staring at it wondering how Thor even got his number. Brunnhilde, probably.

Loki’s thumb had hovered over the unknown contact before finally sighing and adding him to his address book.

When he arrived at the theater, he found it empty save for Thor— who was dressed nicer than he had been at school.

Loki looked down at his own attire: old, baggy t-shirt from the time they performed Les Misérables, his sweatpants, and slip-ons.

Thor, on the other hand, was in his cream cable-knit sweater and dark jeans. He was wearing that cologne that Loki hated to admit he liked.

“Ready?”

Loki bit at his bottom lip.

“I guess.”

They rehearsed their lines and, to be honest, Loki was on auto-pilot. Thor had been right to assume he learned most everyone’s lines. He barely had to glance at the script to read for Juliet, but sometimes he looked down anyway to fight away the feeling of the way Thor was looking at him.

Sure, maybe Thor was a good actor. He certainly had the heart-eyes for Juliet down. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why Thor needed to rehearse at all. He was phenomenal, fluid, and convincing. Loki got a little lost watching his lips form the words, the world fading out to a static buzz, as he watched in what seemed like slow-motion.

“…It happened one night, as love ordained, when the moon shone unusually bright—” Thor stopped, licking his lips. Loki watched with intense concentration.

Then he was getting closer, and closer.

And so, Loki backed away, scrambling up to his feet.

“I think you got it,” Loki blurted. “You’ll do great.”

Thor looked up at him, some disappointment in his eyes.

Disappointment for what? Loki didn’t know. Maybe, maybe he knew.

No, he didn’t.

“Break—” Loki started, walking backward and slamming into the piano set to the side of the stage. His hand slipped on the keys, causing a terrible melody of random chords. “Break a leg.”

Then he ran.

\--

Loki felt immensely better by opening night. He didn’t think about rehearsal with Thor at all, not even once, not even a little bit.

Okay, maybe he thought back to Thor leaning in once or twice. He was just trying to figure out what that meant. Perhaps he dwelled on what would have happened if he hadn’t moved just a few times.

Thor, however, had been purposely avoiding him as they got into wardrobe and makeup. He didn’t speak to Loki until they stood side-by-side on the side of the stage, watching Professor Gast give an animated and _long_ introduction.

“Hey,” Thor whispered. Loki only cut him a sharp look. “I’m going to try something, in our scene together.”

Loki’s eyes widened, and he looked at Thor like he’d just told him he was about to improv the entire play.

“What?” Loki hissed.

But, Thor was walking away already and Loki, he had a _very_ bad feeling.

\--

Yes, just as he originally thought, Thor Odinson was trying to sabotage him.

His little comment had sparked anxiety in his heart and head. Still, he performed well enough— just without his usual vigor and dramatic flair.

He was almost feeling back to normal, his confidence returning, when Thor stepped in front of him.

Which— this wasn’t his cue or his stage mark.

Loki mouthed the word ‘ _what’_ to him, but he ignored it. Panic rose in his chest, hammering away at his ribcage. From the side of the stage, he could see Professor Gast waving his playbill around manically, gesturing to stagehands who were shrugging helplessly, just as confused as Loki.

Thor kissed him. Square on the lips, warm and soft and nice.

He pulled away, looking worried and just a tiny bit hopeful. Loki looked to the crowd, mouths hanging open in stunned silence.

Loki opened his mouth too— but nothing came out. He should continue, press forward in his lines, pretend as if nothing happened.

Only, there was a problem. He couldn’t remember his lines.

The only thing his brain would process was a constant stream of:  _Thor kissed me. Thor kissed me. Thor kissed me._

He finally had another thought, but it wasn’t the sudden remembrance of his next line. No, it was the realization that he hadn’t kissed Thor back.

Loki stepped forward, taking Thor’s face in his hands, never pausing in a fluid movement to press their lips together. He kissed him, returning the favor, and Thor kissed back— edging on the tip of too much.

When Loki pulled away there was a dazed, lopsided smile on Thor’s face. It was unreasonably adorable. Loki looked over his shoulder to Professor Gast, who looked like he was about to absolutely vaporize them both.

It was probably going to be their last performance, but at least they made it memorable.


	30. blinded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another milestone! -confetti canon-

His parents told him his eyes were green, but he hadn’t a clue what that meant. It didn’t matter, he supposed, they were hidden behind black glasses anyway. His world had been dark for so long, Loki couldn’t remember what it was like to see. It wasn’t always that way, but he lacked the ability to remember a time before the darkness.

He'd made his peace.

Loki waited patiently in the doctor’s office. The strong scent of cleaning supplies, the loud clicks of heels on tile, the constant muffled overhead pages— he hated it.

There was a nervous flutter in his stomach. It wasn't the doctor’s visit, per say, he’d been to enough to know what to expect. But, his longtime physician retired, and he was getting someone knew and that set him on edge.

From the doorway came a careful set of knocks.

“Mr. Laufeyson?”

The voice was warm, low, yet soft. The nervous flutter in his stomach was replaced with one of a different nature.

“Loki is fine,” he smiled, tilting his head in the direction of the voice. “You’re my new doctor?”

There was a chuckle and a rustling beside him. Close enough that Loki could feel his body heat.

“Dr. Odinson, I look forward to working with you. I was told great things.”

Loki hummed.

“All true, I’m sure.”

An idea flickered like a lightbulb in Loki’s head. He reached out with a tentative hand, smile shyly. He didn’t know how he looked, but he hoped it was innocent and unassuming.

“May I?”

Loki heard Thor make some sort of noise— confusion? Possibly fluster?

“Of course,” Thor replied, then there was a warm press of a scruffy cheek to his palm.

Typically, Loki didn’t care to feel up a stranger’s face. But, Dr. Odinson had sounded attractive and that rumbling voice had his stomach doing flips. So, maybe he was being a little self-indulgent. He was allowed that.

His fingers skimmed over a thick brow, down a bearded cheek, over a perfect nose, along a sculpted jaw, thumbed at plump lips. Loki frowned, pulling back. His heart threatened to crack his ribcage.

“I know you,” Loki whispered to the man he’d never met before. Not this lifetime, anyway. 


	31. bargain

“She’s perfect,” Thor cooed, taking chubby little legs into his head and pressing soft kisses to the toes.

Loki joined him by the bassinet, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder. On principle, Loki liked to argue with his husband. But, even he couldn’t deny Thor was right. Their daughter was perfect in every way imaginable; pale blue skin, bright blue eyes, tufts of black hair sticking up in a million different directions. She lacked heritage marks or horns, but she was still perfect.

Loki hummed under his breath, playfully pinching one of her toes while she babbled happily.

“Yes, I suppose you finally did something right.”

There was no venom in the barb, and Thor smiled, knocking his elbow into Loki’s side.

They stood like that, staring down at the life they created together, lost in their own world until an out-of-breath guard burst through the door.

“Your Highness,” he panted, immediately straightening into a regal stance. There was a pained look on his face—worry, he recognized. On instinct, Loki scooped his daughter up, cradling her to his chest. “The Enchantress, Amora, has arrived.”

Loki’s blood ran cold, heart freezing in his chest. Beside him, Thor went rigid, stepping closer to them both, an innate desire to protect emerging. Amora, the witch Loki bargained with for his ability to carry a child to term. She’d asked for repayment, never specifying what.

“Why?” Thor gritted out between clenched teeth.

The guard hesitated. They all knew why.

“She’s here for the babe.”


	32. fortune

“Draw a card,” Loki instructed him.

Thor sat across the table, framed with beads and sheer, draping curtains. It was dark, the back of the caravan lit only by flickering candles. But, Loki could still see the apprehension on his face. They all looked like that, everyone that stepped inside.

He reached out with a shaky hand, pulling the first card from the deck, handing it to Loki. He studied it with a quiet intensity, a coy smirk playing at his lips.

Loki dropped the card to the table.

“The Lovers.”


	33. forever

Thor woke in stages.

First, there was natural warmth; the sun shining down, caressing him with soft fingers. That wasn’t all, there was someone beside him, a body pressed against his. The smell of Earth.

Second, was sound. Quiet, only the gentle sway of leaves through the breeze. Melodic and soothing in a way that made him want to fall back asleep. The body beside him was breathing, deep inhales and exhales. They were alive.

“Loki,” Thor whispered, voice hoarse with sleep, because he knew who accompanied him. He would know his brother’s presence anywhere.

Loki hummed, and Thor opened his eyes to a blue sky and a sea of rolling wheat. Both of them laid there in the stalks, quietly, and Thor tried desperately to remember, remember anything. He should be concerned, or scared, but he wasn’t. He felt nothing but comfort and contentment.

“You’ve been asleep for an awfully long time.”

Thor pressed his palms to his eyes. That made sense, he felt as though he was teetering on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness. As if he were present only in the limbo between the waking life and dreams.

“Have I?”

He truly didn’t know.

“Yes, but you’re awake now,” Loki said, soothing and soft.

Thor turned to find Loki already looking at him, skin glowing gold beneath a summer sun. He looked happy, painful memories and betrayals wiped clean from the slate of his face. When Thor’s gaze lingered a hair too long, he smiled, green eyes crinkling in the corners.

He looked beautiful, in a way that Thor would always remember.

It was easy for him to roll over, easy for him to hover over Loki’s face, propped on an elbow to look down and ogle in awe at his brother. The grin on his face melted into something softer, but no less blissful. It was even easier for Thor to lean down and kiss him.

Loki’s lips were soft and pliant, forgiving to the touch of Thor. How long had it been since they’d done this? Centuries? They tasted just as he remembered— because, for every memory he lacked, these were imprinted into his soul, etched into his bone.

He pulled away, content once again to simply look. Loki’s dark hair spread around him like a halo, and Thor soothed it back with a hand. He felt both weightless and grounded.

“Where are we?”

Loki leaned up to meet him halfway for a chaste kiss, his hand coming up to cup Thor’s cheek.

“Home,” his brother told him. “We are finally home.”

There was nothing left to hurt them. 


	34. investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is unedited because i have to work in less than five hours and i need to sleep. :')

Three bodies in three weeks. So, not only was the killer quick, but he was also running like clockwork on some murderous time schedule.

Honestly, Thor had been expecting it. Everyone in the precinct had. Since the broadcast announcing that supernatural beings walked among them, the world had been a little hectic. There was fear from both sides; humans afraid of the things that went bump in the night and said creatures afraid of being hunted for simply existing.

It really complicated things. It was easier, back when the bad guys were all human. Though, he supposed that had never truly been the case.

This time though, the killer was human, or, they were pretty sure.

All three victims had been of the supernatural variety— a vampire, a ghoul, and a fae. All killed the same way, decapitation. (Yes, technically, there was lore on how to kill these creatures, but losing your head was a skeleton key.)

That, plus the fact they were either patrons or employees of a specific club catering to the supernatural and supernatural enthusiasts. It appeared as though some rouge civilian was attempting to become a vigilante. Unfortunately, when Thor found them, they would be nothing more than a serial killer behind bars. Live long enough to see yourself become the villain and all that jazz.

The fourth week was fast approaching, and that meant the fourth body if they didn’t act quick enough.

The first stop for questioning: _Monstre_.

\--

Despite the recent deaths connected with it, Monstre was jammed packed with writhing, dancing bodies. It was a little disorienting. Thor didn’t do much in way of partying, it was hard to do when you were on the force. But, even this was more than he had ever considered. His idea for going out for drinks was a calm bar, sipping beer with Brunnhilde.

He looks around for the owner, he’d been given her file, but now he wasn’t sure he would even be able to pick her out of the sea of people. The music was thumping too loud for him to hear himself think, the pink strobe lights were too dark for him to see. Thor needed to pass this particular task to someone on his team ten years younger.

He was just about to head out the exit when a warm hand touched his back.

“ _Officer Odinson?_ ”

Thor wondered how he could hear over the loud bass until he realized the voice was in his head.

Beside him, under the low lights, he could make out Natasha Romanov, owner of Monstre and ancient vampire hailing from Russia. Or, at least that was what the file had told him. They called her the Widow.

“ _I’ll take you to one of mine, he has a private room. He was the last to see the fae, he’ll be able to answer your questions._ ”

Then he was being pulled, tugged through the crowd towards the back of the club.

\--

Behind the velvet curtain was much quieter. The music still pumped deep beats, but it was muffled, and Thor’s ears rung regardless.

Silently, the Widow led him down an amber-lit hall filled with doors. Some were open, some were closed, but it was obvious what they were all used for. This place was breaking about twenty different laws, but that wasn’t why he was there. Best not to poke at the hand that was feeding him.

She stopped at a room in the far back, turning abruptly with her arms crossed and eyebrow arched. Natasha was a small thing, petite, but that didn’t stop her from exuding an air of red, hot danger.

“You’ll find Loki in here,” she told him, her voice just as smooth as it had been in his head. “Watch out for him, you’re his type.”

Then she was gone with a click of heels, leaving him alone, dumbfounded in front of a door painted green.

Thor knocked twice. This was a bad idea, he should have brought back-up. There was no telling what this Loki actually was—

The door opened.

Well, for starters, Loki was beautiful. His skin was pale and without a flaw, and there was a lot of it on display. He dawned only a sheer black robe, tied loosely at his waist, the collar dipped open and off the shoulder to reveal a rosy pink nipple.

Thor felt his neck grow hot, adverting his eyes back up to discover he’d been caught staring. A slow grin stretched on Loki’s angular face.

“Evening, officer.”

Oh, that voice was low and sultry. It did nothing but fill Thor with want. He needed to remain professional, impossible as that seemed.

“I have some questions about a client you had last week,” Thor said, clearing his throat.

Loki made a small noise of acknowledgment and opened the door wider to allow Thor to enter. He did so with caution. The lighting in the room wasn’t much better than inside the club. Everything was low and warm, furnished only with a bed and a chair.

Thor took the chair, just to be safe.

“You’re talking about the fae,” Loki mused. “Fandral, I believe was his name.”

Thor strummed his finger against his denim-clad thigh.

“His body was found last week, head gone.”

Loki was moving around the room in fluid motions, Thor couldn’t be sure exactly what it was he was doing, but he had the decency to stop and give a solemn nod.

“That’s a pity.”

“What did—” Thor cleared his throat once again. There was a strange spell over him. Normally a chat with a client went swimmingly. It was hard to concentrate with Loki clicking on some low song, rocking his hips in time with the beat. “What did you two talk about.”

With dancer-like movement, Loki stood straight, rolling his neck, looking over his shoulder in a way that could only be described as seductive. The robe slipped further down.

“We didn’t do a whole lot of talking.”

A beat.

Oh.

“Here,” Loki said before Thor could manage to get anything out. “Let me show you what we spoke of.”

Before he could protest, as if he any intention of doing so, Loki dropped to his lap. Against his better judgment, Thor soothed his hands up the thighs that straddled him, settling on Loki’s hips. This was inappropriate and possibly, definitely, illegal.

Loki rolled in time with the beat, allowing Thor’s hands to stay, but not grinding down enough to physically touch him the way he wanted. Tease.

Thor licked his lips. Regardless of the writhing, hot body on top of him, he had a job to do.

“Did Fandral seem flustered or worried?” He was proud at how steady the question came out.

“Only when I did this,” Loki whispered, leaning down to suck the tender lobe of his ear between his teeth. Loki clamped down, biting softly, and pulled away. The second he could feel the teeth leaving his skin, he lets out a shaky breath. That stunt had his cock twitching. Loki moved to the other side, repeating the gesture, only sucking lightly, chasing the bite.  

Fuck.

The train was becoming derailed fast.

“This is an investigation,” Thor told him, but it didn’t sound convincing even to him. Loki didn’t pay any mind, he just ground forward, the barest hint of a hard cock sliding across Thor’s stomach. He was smiling, disarming.

“I have something for you to investigate.”

This wasn’t like him, so quick to lose control. There was a murderer, a murderer he was tasked to find. But, he found he didn’t care. The soft flesh of Loki rolling against him, seductive and alluring with the music thumping from an overhead speaker— it was the only thing Thor could think about. His head was clouded with lust and desperation.

“What are you?”

Because that had to be it, right? He was under some sort of glamor.

Loki’s long, slender fingers toyed with the button of his button-up. He looked up, green eyes practically glowing, a sly smile on his face.

“You don’t know what they call me?” He popped a button open, then another. “I’m an incubus.” Another button, and another, until his shirt was being pushed open to expose his chest. Loki watched him, full of intention, then dropped his head to lick a hot strip up his sternum. “And, I’m very hungry.”

They met each with a burning force, teeth clashing, tongues flicking out until Loki’s drew Thor’s into his mouth. It was messy and hot, all desperation and no finesse. Thor’s hand came up to tangle in Loki’s dark hair and Loki’s held Thor’s face into place while he devoured.

It was Loki that broke the kiss, pulling back and panting.

“I’ll give you information on her, but you have to do something for me in return.”

Anything, anything, Thor would—

Record scratch.

“Her?”

Loki feigned innocence.

“Yes, the one you’re after.”

The haze around Thor’s lust-drunk mind lessened.

“Wait,” Loki stopped him with a finger to his lips. “An eye for an eye. Or, well…” He looked down at Thor’s lap.

“What do you want?”

Thor had some ideas. Loki gave him a devilish wink and moved his hand between them to palm at Thor’s already hard cock. With a skilled hand, he opened the fly, pushing enough aside to pull him out. Thor had to bite his lip to keep a filthy, indecent sound from slipping out. Loki’s hand was hot on him, giving lazy strokes.

“Fill me up,” he instructed, and then slipped off Thor’s lap to his knees.

It was a pretty sight, Loki before him, eyeing his cock like it was his favorite meal. He’d make it his favorite meal. Slowly, Thor weaved his fingers back into Loki’s hair and pushed his head forward until the weeping head smeared against his cheek.

“Take what you want.”

And, so, Loki did. He wasted no time with foreplay—there was no teasing or licking—just a hot, wet mouth taking him to the base.

“Fuck,” Thor finally hissed out, throwing his head back. He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see Loki with his lips stretched around his cock, or it’d be over before it started.

Loki pulled off, slowly, and with a pop.

“Great idea,” he said, sinking back down half-way and staying there motionless.

It took Thor longer than he cared to admit figuring out what Loki was asking for, but with the first gentle thrust of his hips, Loki moaned around his cock. That was all the permission Thor needed, he fucked up into his waiting mouth, trying to keep a calm pretense and failing miserably.

It didn’t take long for his rhythm to falter, for him to push in faster and deeper, chasing a pleasure building and pooling low in his belly. There was no way a human could take what Thor was dishing out, but Loki took it in stride, staring up at him with watery eyes, a challenge gleaming.

Thor knew exactly what he wanted.

He tightened his grip on Loki’s hair, roughly shoving him down the length of his cock—just in time to empty himself down his lax throat. Loki swallowed it all down obediently; he didn’t stop until Thor was drained and sensitive with overstimulation.

Loki pulled back and obscenely wiped at his mouth.

“Now,” he drawled, still on his knees between Thor’s spread legs and softening cock. “Let me tell you about Amora.”   


	35. stray

He’d never been one for animals— or owning them anyway. It was too much responsibility in his already hectic life. But, when the black cat showed up on his front porch things changed. It was a skinny, thing, meowing loudly as he carted his groceries in, weaving in and out between his legs and knocking its head against him.

Thor barely made a protest when it skirted inside at the slightest crack of the door.

The cat looked around slowly, tiny black nose sniffing at the air, tail straight up, a curious thing. Thor sat his groceries down, watching it paw at a trinket on the coffee table, knocking it to the soft carpet. Approaching carefully, he knelt down and scratched between the cat’s ears (a boy, on closer inspection). A deep purr rumbled against his palm.

“Mischievous, aren’t you?”

Big, green eyes stared up at him.

“I’ll call you Loki. How about that?”

It was only fitting, after all.

Loki nuzzled up into his hand and Thor smiled.

“Guess I have a cat now.”


	36. tyrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dark!thor, implied noncon  
> remember in chapter one when loki said he'd seen thor be a bad king? well...

“Bring him in.”

Loki watched as a guard nodded, obeying without question— a soundless sentry. It didn’t surprise him; after all, he was the one who made them all that way. A little twist of magic and they would do their King's bidding.

If Loki had to guess, they were all screaming beyond the walls of the prison in their own head.

A man was drug into the center of the court, pleas already spilling out of his mouth. Thor raised his hand, snapping his fingers, and the babbling ceased. Fear would do that to a man.

He’d be lucky if he had his hand by the end of this meeting. Their King did not take kindly to thieves, especially when it was royal amenities stolen.

Loki stood poised beside the throne, hands folded neatly at his lap, shackled and bound to a chain that Thor held loose in his hand. It stopped being humiliating long ago. He knew what they called him—the King’s attack dog.

It was, he supposed, true.

“Your plea?” Thor asked with a false sympathy. Loki knew he wasn’t capable of such an emotion, but it appeared the man drug to judgment did not.

“Your Majesty, please forgive me. I have children— it was only one loaf of bread!”

Loki cut his eyes over in time to see a cruel smile twist on the King’s lips. He had a handsome face, the kind face that fooled people. This man would learn soon enough, just as he had. If the Gods held any mercy, his fate would be less cruel than Loki’s— taken from his homeland, forced to bend the knee, and then later forced to bend for the King to take him how he pleased.

He knew he’d be spared of the latter; Thor only shared a bed with Loki anymore.

“Only one loaf of bread? Bread from the royal kitchens, bread for royalty.”

“I have children,” the man said, begging.

Thor pretended to be thoughtful.

“Then, perhaps I shall kill them,” he laughed, Loki stiffened beside him. The man’s eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. “Why not? Fewer mouths for you to feed.”

He started spouting off pleas and bargains once more, on his knees begging for a kernel of pity.

Thor sighed, waving a hand nonchalantly. “Loki, my dear, kill him.”

The command caught him off guard, and he turned quickly to find any trace of jest. Screams came from the center of the court.

“My King—” Loki started but was cut off by a harsh tug on his chain.

Thor looked him dead in the eye, face unwavering, no humor, no jest. He was serious. Loki looked to the man, now being physically restrained by the guards. Begging, pleading, crying, asking for forgiveness. At least Loki could give him a quick, painless death.

Loki closed his eyes, took a deep breath, called forth his magic, and twisted his wrist. The man fell to the ground with a lifeless thud, neck twisted on his shoulders.

“That seemed a little harsh, my King,” Loki whispered so only they could hear it.

King Thor replied, voice full of promise, “I will show the meaning of harsh tonight.”

Loki itched in anticipation. 


	37. wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this will just be a link to the fic something wicked. i don't want to post the same story twice. but something wicked turned out to be 5.8k and i didn't have the energy to write another one. forgive me! :')

please read chapter 37 here! -- [something wicked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447268).


	38. costumes

The part was chaos— dancing and drink, laughter and melodies tumbling from the grand piano. Every mask hid a noble face, for only the highborn received the gilded invitation. He’d attended, out of formality, but in the corner, he waited.

A body stepped in front of him, snapping him out of a daydream. The man wore a large, feathered mask, white and gold, in the shape of a lion’s head. Unnecessarily elaborate, but Loki found the fact his exposed, plush lips were exposed agreeable.

“I was beginning to think you were not coming,” Loki said, an air of grace and elegance.

“I would not dream of missing it.”

Loki smiled, and the man smiled back. Slowly, he rocked up to give him a kiss— full of intimacy and familiarity. He pulled back, leaning breathlessly against the wall.

“It is good to see you, brother.”


	39. relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i actually did a little art with this! you can view it here. [[x](http://shineonloki.tumblr.com/post/179579364278/aesir-prince-loki-in-jotunheim-attempting-to-woo)] :)

“What are you wearing?”

Brunnhilde stopped in front of him, a cross between amusement and confusion evident, and arms crossed over her armored chest. Loki wasn’t sure why she was staring, _she_ was the one that was overdressed— head to toe in the official armor of the royal Valkyrie. 

“I asked for traditional Jotnar celebration wear,” Loki answered, giving her a subtle twirl so she could garner the full effect. The large furl stole slipped off his shoulder and he pulled it back up with a dignified huff. In his defense, most Jotnar clothing weren’t tailored for someone of his stature. Even the King, small as he was compared to his people, towered a full head and a half over him.

“Aren’t you cold?” Brunnhilde asked, eyebrow raised and scowl twitching into a small smile.

He looked down at his bare torso lined with blue paint, at the dark loincloth wrapped at his waist, and at the gold bangles on his ankles and wrists. The paint had been his designated servant’s idea. He’d told Loki it would reflect his status. All in all, when he looked in the mirror before leaving his temporary chambers, he had been pleased. He looked good— _tempting_ — which is what he wanted.

“I weaved a simple warming spell,” he said with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. “Are you my bodyguard or are you my mother?”

Brunnhilde snorted back a laugh.

“If I were your mother, I might be blind to what you are really planning.”

Loki followed her line of sight to the Warrior-King Thor, sitting on his ice throne while Jotnar three times his size celebrated around him. Loki made sure Brunnhilde saw the devilish smile curl on his lips as he waved his fingers in the King's direction.

\--

Seducing the King of Jotunheim hadn’t been his original plan. As the Crown Prince of Asgard, his father had seen it an excellent opportunity to practice his diplomacy as acting-ambassador. Loki had found the idea horribly boring and tedious.  

Asgard and Jotunheim’s relationship was rocky at best, years of war and bloodshed weren’t washed away so quickly. Still, with the death of King Laufey and the rise of King Thor, those broken edges were made to be mended. Though Thor was raised a warrior, earning his respect and loyalty though commanding Jotunheim’s army, he had turned out to be a surprisingly peaceful King. A King to reconstruct the damaged image of his predecessor.

Despite this, Loki had still pictured a towering frost giant, bulky and brutish in the way the Jotun warriors often were. He had not been expecting a runt— by Jotnar standards— and for the King to be so devastatingly handsome. Strong features, a thick pale beard to match his hair which was pleated back in a warrior’s braid, red eyes, and a gentle smile.

Yes, _that_ changed things.

Thor’s rise to royalty had been a quick one, it was obvious in his mannerism— too loose, yet too rigid all the same. It also showed in his lack of a partner. To his benefit, Loki supposed finding a suitable mate in the midst of battle would be a hard thing to do.

Loki swallowed down his goblet of sweet wine, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Just enough liquid courage. He adjusted the fur stole once more— this time he made sure it _did_ slink suggestively off his shoulder— and made his way to the banquet table where the King of Winter sat.

Loki may have been born the Crown Prince, but he was more than willing to be Queen for the night.

Thor smiled when he saw him; it was warm, despite frigid cold. With a large hand, he gestured to the empty seat beside him and Loki smiled politely, eyes involuntarily staying glued to the huge muscles of his arm. They looked more solid than the ice fortifying the palace.

“Crown Prince, I hope you are enjoying your stay,” Thor said, his voice was a deep rumble that rolled through Loki’s skin, hammering out his good sense.

“It could be better,” he drawled, licking his lips slightly. He meant for it to be a flirtation— because his trip had been pleasant, but his rating would have increased dramatically if Thor would bend him over the table and take him for all to see.

Alas, the flirtation was missed because Thor frowned.

“It is my hope for Asgard to once again view Jotunheim as an ally. Please, if there is anything I may do to ease your stay, let me know.”

Loki blinked.

“Wait, that is not—” he started to explain, but bit his bottom lip in frustration. Loki needed a smooth recovery, and he needed it fast. In a panic, he reached out and plucked a bizarre looking fruit from a bowl. It felt hard in his hand, but it would do. Loki bit into and—

His teeth clinked against its skin.

Loki blinked again. If this had been Asgard, and that had been a peach, Thor would have been entranced by the way the juices gushed over his fingers as he licked them one by one. But, Thor wasn’t impressed— he was laughing— and reached over to take the fruit from him

“These are not made for little Aesir princes.”

Thor twirled it in his hands, its blue skin glittering like ice. He took a bite from it, crunched it between his teeth, and it was Loki who watched in awe.

“ _Well_ , I have something made for you.”

He had not meant to say that out loud, and he felt a heat creep up on his neck, flushing his cheeks. What a pair they probably made— red and blue.

“Oh?” Thor asked, only after he swallowed, placing the remainder of fruit on the table. There wasn’t a hint of anything sultry, just a plain, unabashed curiosity.

“Yes!”

Loki looked down, looking for anything to use as an impromptu gift. On his finger, his gold and emerald ring sparkled in the light. Then, as if he meant it all along, Loki pulled it from his finger and presented it to Thor.

The King took it from his palm, eyeing it skeptically between his thumb and index finger. It looked so tiny in his hands, there wasn’t a place on his body the ring would fit. Either he knew the ring wasn’t made for him— _likely_ — or, he thought the Aesir had a very poor understanding of measurements.

For a long time, they sat in silence— Thor staring at the gifted jewelry, and Loki wishing he was anywhere else.

Then Thor smiled, reaching behind his neck to unclasp the cord necklace around his throat, stringing the ring through it and putting it back on.

“Thank you, Prince Loki. I will cherish it always.”

His mother was going to be furious when she found out he gave away a family heirloom— so be it. Nothing would compare to the sight of Thor gazing at him with adoration, and this ring laying flat on his chest.

“I do have a question though. If I may be so bold,” Thor said. If Loki wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of bashfulness to it.  Loki nodded, carefully hiding his spiked heartbeat.

“Did you know the painted sigils on your body is one typically used in Jotnar courting rituals?”

Loki paled—to think, he’d been prancing around like a peacock on parade with a sign on him that said he was looking for a mate. No wonder most of the Jotnar attending the celebration looked at him with a strange concern.

Thor laughed and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki stared at it like it was going to sear his skin right off the bone.

“I take it you did not.”

Meekly, Loki shook his head. Thor leaned in.

“A shame,” he whispered, low and directly into Loki’s ear. A tremor shook down his spine, a stirring in his gut. Thor reached out, gently thumbed at his bottom lip, at the stripe painted down the middle. It was probably being smudged, he didn’t care. “I was hoping you marked your body with intent.”

“Intent?” Loki asked, voice shaking as Thor’s thumb continued to slide against his lip—so close to dipping inside. He poked out his tongue, grazed it against the blue skin. Thor’s red eyes flared dark and it boldened him. “I have many intentions, perhaps we can go somewhere more private and I can recount them for you.”

Thor stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor, causing several heads to turn.

“This way, my Prince.”

\--

Brunnhilde found him the next morning sneaking from Thor’s chambers. He had tried to close the door lightly silently, but she was waiting propped on the wall outside. She pointedly appraised him, taking in the blue paint smudged all over his naked torso, the little love bites on his hips and neck.

“I guess all is well with Asgard-Jotunheim relations?”

Loki thought back to the image of Thor on top of him, moving within him, gold ring dangling from his neck. A promise that was made after it was over and Loki lay small on his heaving chest.

“They are about to be a lot better.”


	40. evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well, i know i just did a horror fic! but!! it's halloween! so, here is another one. :') warning: graphic depiction of gore.

There was always an underlying cause, and that cause was almost never actually possession.

Father Odinson believed in evil— he’d seen it— but evil lived in the actions of a few, not in frail teenage bodies. Maladies of the mind were usually the culprit, sometimes derangement due to blocked trauma. When he had been handling the file for Loki Laufeyson, he saw someone broken. It read in his eyes, sunken in and hollowed out.

He looked lost.

Father Odinson shut the file before that vacant stare haunted him further.

\--

The house was a quaint one: weather-worn clapboard and green shutters, iron rod fence around the perimeter, a front porch with a swing that rocked in the cold breeze. He stood there for several long seconds, frozen to the sidewalk. He hadn’t passed the gate, but already there was a suffocating fog choking him— a presence so strong it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

He held his bible a little tighter, a little closer.

Mrs. Laufeyson was waiting at the door, and immediately he could tell Loki favored his mother. They both had the same straight nose, high cheekbones, and big eyes the color of sea glass. She looked exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days. Probably hadn’t.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, shutting the door behind him, clicking every lock. “He’s getting worse.”

“Of course, the church sends their regards.”

There wasn’t anything for him to compare it too, but the tremble in her fingers and fear on her face told him to believe her.

“This way.”

Mrs. Laufeyson led him down a hallway with peeling floral wallpaper. They passed by a family portrait, a woman and man, happy and healthy with a boy, around eight. He almost didn’t recognize her as the woman in the photo, she looked like a worn-down version. But, the boy, Loki—he knew immediately. He didn’t smile, just solemnly stared forward.

He hadn’t realized they stopped walking until Mrs. Laufeyson took him by the wrist, dragged him further.

“A happier time,” she explained.

\--

The first thing he noticed was the temperature. It was freezing, so cold he could see his breath.

Then it was the wall, yellowed paint hidden behind crucifixes. They lined every inch, assorted sizes puzzled together to canvas the wall. Below them, bound with rope to a four-post bed, was Loki.

Perhaps he was worse.

Dry, cracked lips peeled into a smile revealing teeth dried with blood.

“Hello, Thor.”

Something seized in Father Odinson’s chest— fear.

“Father Odinson,” he corrected. He wouldn’t take the bait; wouldn’t ask how he came to know his name.

Loki rolled his head back, thumping it against the oak headboard. He was still wearing that smile, one that promised to rip the flesh from bone if given the chance. His hair was matted and frizzed, black curls going haywire in a nest atop his head, his skin was sickly and sallow, dotted with molted bruises like the flesh of a rotting fruit.

“You can’t get rid of me,” Loki whispered, voice scratchy and dry. “There is nowhere for me to go.”

Father Odinson held out his Bible, flipped to the needed scripture. Loki’s laugh cut through the air like a knife.

“There is always somewhere for you to go,” he said, pointedly— unsure whether he was talking to Loki or the apparent demon residing in his body. The words held a different meaning for the latter.

“Do you know who I am?”

Father Odinson stilled, looking up slowly from the book in his hand.

“Who?”

He shouldn’t ask, he shouldn’t indulge.

Loki leaned forward with a quick jerk, rattling the headboard and pulling against his restraints. The rope cut into his bruised wrists, a trickle of blood rolling.

“I am Loki,” he said, but the voice didn’t belong to just him— hundreds of voices in unison. His eyes were impossibly dark, black to the edges.

“Yes,” Father Odinson commented. His patient was worse off than he thought, delusions, signs of illness, of self-inflicted wounds. His body was emaciated and bordering skeletal, but his eyes were hungry and watching his every movement. He was frightened but also saddened. “You’re Loki Laufeyson, sixteen years old—”

“I have been here for millennia,” Loki spat, blood and spittle running down his chapped lips. “I remember them all, every lifetime.”

Father Odinson stepped closer to the bed and Loki attempted to kick at him with his bound foot. The skin around his ankle was raw, red sinewy muscle poking through; the sight made his stomach heave.

“I didn’t have to search for you, you came to me,” Loki said, tilted his head and batted his eyes. “Look, I’m already all tied up.”

He could have ignored the suggestive tone if it weren’t for the tented fabric between Loki’s legs. He canted his hips up, rolling them against nothing, the pulse of his trapped erection evident. Father Odinson stumbled back, catching himself on the desk pushed against the wall. Another cruel laugh from the bed.

“Stop.”

“What? You always loved my cock.”

Father Odinson felt his pulse quicken, a sweat breaking on his skin despite the frigid air. He felt weak, light-headed, and disoriented. The room was spinning, he couldn’t breathe.

“Can’t you remember,” Loki purred.

“Enough.”

“Can’t you remember what it felt like to have it shoved down your throat?”

He tried to regain his footing, kept his eyes on the Bible in his hands. He opened it, began to chant the scripture. Expel the demon.

“That isn’t going to work.”

Father Odinson kept on, ignored the taunts.

“I’m not a demon—”

He reached in his pocket for the vile of holy water, the one he hadn’t thought he would need. One splash to the face, Loki laughed. After the second, the laughter died. After the third, he was seething, baring his teeth and fighting his restraints with jerky movements. He was going to break a wrist like that. Father Odinson would let him.

“I am a God!”

His face was dripping water, nothing had changed. Loki was still snarling, chest still heaving with rattled breaths. Eyes still close to black. He stared at him like he knew even the deepest parts of him, the darkest parts.

There was nothing more he could do.

Father Odinson made to leave—this was beyond his control and beyond his understanding. Loki needed a medical doctor, serious help, perhaps a padded room.

He placed his hand on the doorknob—

“Brother?”

Ice in his veins. He turned slowly.

On the bed sat Loki, glowing in the amber light of the lamps. His face restored to a youthful fullness. Sea glass eyes. Hair tamed and pushed back behind his ears. He looked to his wrist, the one that now flopped broken like a ragdoll— his eyes grew bigger, full of fear.  

“Brother, what’s happening?”

It doesn’t register that it’s a trick. That he doesn’t have a brother.

Not until he took a step forward and Loki’s eyes roll back to only whites. He slammed his head against the headboard violently, repeatedly. It shook the entire wall, crucifixes dropping one by one.

“Oh god, oh god—”

It was Mrs. Laufeyson.

Father Odinson stayed grounded, frozen in fear, as Loki drew his head forward and slammed it back again, and again until the wood splintered, and he left it red. He was laughing now, manically.

Then he was being dragged away, back through the hallway. Loki shouted his name after him.

 _Thor. Thor. Thor. Thor_.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help your son,” he told her, headed for the door. He felt like such a coward, a failure of the highest caliber. This woman had come to him seeking assistance— to help her son— and here he was, running.

 _Thor. Thor. Thor. Thor_.

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. He was being pushed out the door. There was an instant relief the moment he filled his lungs with fresh air. A shift in the atmosphere.

Mrs. Laufeyson hovered by the door, hands wringing the hem of her shirt. She looked at him apologetically. He was the one who needed to apologize.

“I’m sorry—”

“One day you will remember.”

There was a flip in his stomach, a familiar sense of dread.

“What?”

Mrs. Laufeyson looked back into the house, towards the deafening screams of her son. It was only then Father Odinson noticed the blood trickling down her cheek, dripping from the gaping wound, wet with blood and brain— the entire half of her skull blown and missing.

He ran, faster than he ever had before. He ran until his legs gave out beneath him until he slumped against the trunk of a tree and retched out the contents of his stomach. He kept his eyes open because when he shut them he saw Loki. He saw Loki’s mother, speaking to him while her brains spilled from her head.

Father Odinson believed in evil— he’d seen it. Tonight, it was in that house.


	41. brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentions of domestic abuse. unhappy home. sibling incest. fraternal twins. actually pretty fluffy, despite the warnings. 
> 
> this little AU was actually inspired by the song king of carrot flowers part one.

“They’re fighting again.”

Thor closed the door softly behind him and padded into their room. From the kitchen, a glass shattered, and they could hear the muffled screaming of their parents. It was always like that, since before Loki could remember. Their folks didn’t have a lot of money when their mom got pregnant, so the burden of twins was a lot to bare. One baby was expensive, two were a nightmare. Loki didn't know when the fight started, he just knew it never stopped.

“I’d be more shocked if you said they weren’t,” Loki commented dryly. He scooted over on the bare mattress, shuffling his schoolwork with him as he went, to make room for his brother. Thor dropped down and made a dramatic show of stretching out.

“What’re you working on?” he asked, nosing his head into Loki’s lap, and he sighed and lifted an arm to allow it.

“Just some stuff for Literature,” Loki mumbled and tucked away his notebook filled with chicken scratch. They had been asked to write poetry, which was terribly drab. He figured he could pump out a few vague, ominous lines and his teacher would go nuts trying to find a deeper meaning. Except—

He’d written about his love. Hair golden like the sun.

Thor nuzzled into his side, humming contently. Loki dropped a hand to his hair, carded his fingers through, blonde strands weaving around his knuckles.

He’d written about eyes the color of the sky.

Thor rolled over to his back, head still pillowed on Loki’s knee. He smiled up at him, blue eyes shining brightly.

He’d written about finding a home within another, grounded like the roots of an old oak.

Thor reached up and placed a warm hand against his cheek. Loki turned into it, breathed him in.

He’d written about two souls existing as one.

Another shattered glass, the front door opened and slammed, yelling, screaming, someone following the other out onto the lawn. The cops would probably be called this time, and if their father was drunk enough, he may be hauled to jail for the night. It’d be a welcome break.

“Come here,” Thor mumbled, lifting up so that Loki could scoot down with him. His brother pulled him in tight, cradled the back of his head and pressed him into his chest. Loki only realized he was crying when he felt the dampness on the front of Thor’s threadbare shirt.

“Don’t listen to them,” his brother cooed, soft and quiet while rubbing soothing strokes up and down his back. Loki held back the tears, shoulders shaking from the effort. Thor kissed his hairline. “I got you, its okay.”

And, he did. Thor always had him. He was always there to stitch him back together. They had been born together, entered the world screaming and crying, reaching for each other before ever reaching for anyone else.

Something came over Loki, that innate need to feel love and comfort— those luxuries which were only ever given to him by his brother. A dawning realization that he loved Thor more than anything, more than a brother ought to love.

Loki pressed a kiss against Thor’s t-shirt— innocent and chaste. He leaned up, pressed a kiss to skin just above the collar. Thor let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to look down between them. There was a question on his lips, one that wasn’t being spoken out loud. Loki kissed the underside of his jaw and Thor angled his head down. Loki kissed at the corner of his mouth, hesitating, before moving to his lips.

They stayed like that, unmoving, lips against one another— understanding of the step they’d taken over the invisible line they’d drawn themselves. Then, Thor kissed him back, soft lips moving against his. Something changed, and Loki was surging up to grapple at his face, to pull him down to pull him deeper.

The first flicker of tongue along his had Loki’s head spinning. At once, they both scrambled to undo their pants— Loki sliding off his sweats, and Thor popping open the button of his jeans and frantically shoving them down. The brothers moved in a blur, desperately grabbing at each other, taking each other in hand and moving in hurried, eager movements until they were spilling in the space between them, making a mess of themselves and the mattress they shared.

Heavy breathing filled the room, along with a thick fog of panic, and the stench of sex. Loki swallowed down the lump in his throat; he felt sick to his stomach. He’d done it. He fucked up the one good thing in his life. Quickly, he pulled up his pants, not bothering to clean up the mess beforehand.

He needed to go—

“Was that okay?”

Loki met Thor’s eyes, they held the same fears his own heart did. He could see it written all over his brother’s face. The insecurity dissipated. 

“Oh, Thor,” Loki breathed out, leaning in instead of turning away. He smoothed a hand down his face, pushed back the hair from his eyes. “You don’t know, do you? How much I love you?”

Thor smiled, kissed his palm.

“I love you too.”

Outside, their parents fought—loud and angry. In the comfort of their room, they held each other close. Two brothers who didn’t have much of anything but each other.


	42. throne

Thor leaned into him, grasping handfuls of Loki’s backside, heaving him up along the wall. Instinctively, Loki wrapped his legs around his waist, rutting closer, searching for friction. They were both panting, desperate and frantic.

If anyone caught them, _oh_ — the scandal it would cause. The King of Asgard and his royal guard. Loki didn’t mind, just let his body roll against his big, brute. Thor, _his_ , at last.

Let them talk.

Let them whisper.

A sharp snap of Thor’s hips pushed his hard cock against him, and Loki hummed contently. Yes, he quite liked his new throne.


	43. punishment

It was a terrible thing, the ache in his chest. The emptiness, hollow like a rotting tree. Loki thought he had been born with the feeling; it was an integral part of him for as long as he could remember.

Such a cruel punishment, to yearn for someone that didn’t exist; to pine for something so far from his grasp. It wouldn’t make sense, not to anyone else. He simply longed for a something that only lived in his mind.

He couldn’t remember his crime to deserve it; the only sure revelation was that he did. He did deserve it, he must.

A slow torture.

Methodical.

Purposeful.


	44. reverie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is actually just a preview of a longer piece i am working on. i had a crazy day though so couldn't finish. and, considering i wrote this today, i'm just gonna' use it for the 100 lifetimes. stayed tuned for the full-length thing. :') <3

Though Loki would have never admitted it in his youth—back when he had seriously considered ruining his Thor’s coronation— his brother turned out to be a good king.

A great one even, if Loki was being generous.

He ruled fairly and just, the people of Asgard respected him, the people of Midgard thought him a hero. There had always been quips about Loki’s silver-tongue, but Thor was every bit as talented in talking his way out of problems. (That particular skill came later, after many years of learning from the best. Loki, himself.)

They knew it was going to happen; it was inevitable. But, Thor had prepared for the sleep— unlike his father before him, who had a knack for dropping into it in the most inopportune times.  His brother had planned carefully a regime for when it happened.

The first decree being, Loki was left in charge. Which, in his humble opinion, had been the wisest move of them all. Despite the hesitation and uncertainty from the court.

And, just as he had been wrong about Thor’s fit for the crown, he was also wrong about his desire for it. Yes, the power had been appealing, a chance to step into the sun and cast his own shadow. He just hadn’t expected it to be so tedious and numbing.

By the fourth week— barely a hairline in the span of an Aesir life— he was ready to shake Thor out his slumber.

It was much more fun to have free reign of whatever he so chose to do while whispering influences into Thor’s ear for the sideline. That way he could keep one hand around independence and the other around power.

It would go against his very nature not to cause a little chaos.


	45. spinning

Loki searched for his brother in the crowd of people to no avail. Music thumped, rattling the pictures on the walls. It wasn’t his normal scene, but he took a swig of the beer anyway. His head was already fuzzy, the more he drank the better it tasted.

No, it still tasted horrible, but he knocked it back.

He wasn’t old enough to drink, but neither was anyone else— though, Loki was a few years younger. A Sophomore at a Senior party, a little brother tagging along.

“Loki!”

Stark— the host with loaded, out-of-town parents. He made a grand gesture with his arms before slinging one around Loki’s shoulder. Loki shrunk into himself, cradling the bottle to his chest. Stark’s breath smelled like something harder than beer when he leaned in.

“Thor has been looking for you! C’mon, and—” Stark plucked the bottle from his fingers, which he chased before a red cup was being pressed into his hands. “Drink this!”

Loki eyed it wearily, and Stark smiled— bright, confident, and cocky.

He drank it down in three gulps. It tasted fruity and then immediately tasted bitter. The transition was jarring and made his face twist up.

“You…you weren’t supposed to drink the whole thing. That was—” Stark snapped his mouth closed, blinked. “Impressive,” he finished.

Loki gave a sloppy smile, head already buzzing.

——

By the time they made it upstairs, Loki had already swiped a cup from a girl leaned against the wall and drained its contents, throwing it to the ground with a chaotic laugh. Stark just huffed, dragging him down the hallway.

“Your brother should really put a leash on you.”

Loki felt his cheeks flush— or maybe that was the alcohol talking. Or _maybe_ , it was the image of him on his hands and knees and Thor with a leash in his hand.

Loki hiccupped and fell into Stark, who steadied him and while trying to open a door with his one free hand. He stumbled into the room, giggling and swaying.

“I didn’t do this,” Stark said, holding up his hands and then pointing to Loki, who was leaned against the doorframe.

“Loki?”

 _Oh_ , that was Thor and he sounded…concerned? Loki couldn’t be sure.

In the center of the room, Thor sat in a circle with a group of others that Loki vaguely recognized from school. Some were in Thor’s normal clique, some weren’t. Loki didn’t care either way.

“ _Brother_ ,” he cooed, and someone snickered into their cup and Loki shot them a glare. He hoped it was menacing.

Stark guided Loki to the circle, helped him down, which Loki refused to let happen by jerking his arm away. Across from him, Thor was staring hard, an unreadable expression in his eyes. His nostrils were flared, eyebrows knitted together.

 _Angry_ , Loki’s drunk brain supplied.

“Okay!” Stark clapped his hands together, successfully disrupting Thor and Loki’s staring contest. He placed a bottle in the middle of the circle, sly look on his face.

“Ready to play?”

——

Stark ended up kissing three different people. The redhead— Nat— kissed Loki on the forehead. Thor kissed a girl with mousy brown hair on the lips, and Loki’s blood boiled. It wasn’t intimate, or even sexual, just a quick kiss on the lips. But, by the time it was Loki’s turn, he was digging his nails into the palm of his hands and he didn’t know why.

Well, maybe he did.

He reached for the bottle, placed his fingers on it, closing his eyes in preparation for the spin—

“Stop, he can’t.”

Loki’s eyes snapped open. Thor didn’t look angry anymore, he looked nervous.

“Why not?”

The rest of the group exchanged looks, shrugging their shoulders.

“He’s—” Thor started, closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it again. He looked like a gaping, dumb fish. “Too young?”

“I’m sixteen!” Loki admonished, quite frankly insulted. “Stark is seventeen!”

With a huff, he spun the bottle. They all watched it go around, around, and around in silence. It slowed, losing momentum, and stopped with the neck very obviously facing forward.

Facing toward Thor.

Loki’s heart crawled into his throat.

“Hey, you can just spin again, it’s fine,” Nat said, reaching out to pat at his leg. He knocked her hand back, ignoring her.

He would regret this in the morning, he was sober enough to know that.

However, he was not sober enough to stop himself from crawling on his hands and knees across the circle, flinging the bottle out of the way as he went. He was not sober enough to stop himself from climbing into his brother’s lap, draping himself over him, running his hands up the side of his face to tilt it back.

Loki could hear them all collectively hold their breath.

Then he kissed Thor with no finesse. Passionate, but sloppy.

(To be fair, it was his first kiss and he was drunk.)

For several long, horrifying moments Thor didn’t kiss back. He stayed still as a statue as Loki moved on top of him, hands trying to desperately find purchase on Thor’s jaw and shoulder. He moved against him, kissing with a fever that begged to be returned.

Then Loki felt something wet and warm, Thor’s mouth opening against him. Pliant and soft, Loki let him take control— he had far more experience, for what it was worth. Something seized in his chest— too drunk off alcohol and adrenaline to properly realize what he was actually doing:

Making-out with his older brother in the middle of a party, in front of at least ten other people.

Loki pulled away, eyes wide with fear. He didn’t dare look anywhere but Thor; he could feel the stares.  And Thor, he looked much like Loki felt.

He was sobering surprisingly quick. Loki made to move, to run, shifting to find Thor hard against him.

 _Oh_.

“I—” Thor started, he looked around the room, but Loki didn’t look anywhere but him. He was still too shell-shocked. “I should get my brother home, he’s had too much to drink.”

For fun, Loki pressed down his weight on the hardness in Thor’s pants. His brother let out a strained groan, and Loki grinned.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _get me home_.


	46. hero

The village spoke of a hero, valiant and strong, who saved them from the dragon who slept at the top of the mountain. 

Thor, the son of the village chief, trekked to the top to slay the beast. He never returned, but neither did the dragon. There were stories swapped at gatherings, about how they had fought to the death, killing each other in the heat of battle.

They erected a statue of Thor to remember him. They wrote songs praising his glory. They held parades and festivals in his honor.

Thor stood on the edge of the mountain, near the mouth of a cave, and wondered if they would continue those traditions if they knew the truth.

They probably wouldn't, but that was okay. 

He reached down, giving a pat to a great horn atop the dragon's head. Loki opened a giant, reptilian eye, and snorted out a puff of smoke- amused, as if he could hear Thor's thoughts.

 


	47. memories

Loki waited in the crowd, craning his neck over the sea of bobbing heads. He’d traveled months to make it to the capital and catch a glimpse of the King and his new Queen.

A voracious roar rose up over the crowd as King Thor stepped out on the balcony of the palace. Loki, young in his step, climbed atop a wagon loaded with hay so that he might get a better look.

It was hard to see so far away, but Loki could see the beauty that laid beneath his rugged features. He waved, and another loud cheer spilled from the mass. Loki was so entranced with the King, he almost forgot to look to his side where the new Queen of Asgardian stood, arm looped with her husband’s.

Loki couldn’t remember where Queen Amora hailed from, he didn’t care to admit that he cared little about her or her backstory. That wasn’t why he was there.

She tossed an intricate braid over her shoulder, looking over the crowd with a tight, but pleasant smile. Finally, gaze landed on Loki— he felt eyes narrow in. It seemed crazy, but it was as if she had been looking for him.

His chest tightened, and he clambered down from the wagon, cutting through the suffocating crowd. Loki stopped, clawing at his own heart. Something was burning within him, and his head felt like it had an ax lodged in it.

Then quickly, in flashes, the lifetimes started to come back.

One by one.


	48. truth

[read separately here please! and if you enjoy, please leave feedback! :') i appreciate every kind word, even if i can't reply to you all!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565894)


	49. denied

**Sig** [ received: 11:07 pm ] – _where are you??_

 **Sig** [ received: 11:10 pm ] – _loki????/!_

Loki looked down at his phone with a huff. He texted back a quick reply explaining that the line to the club was half-way down the block and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Bouncing on his feet, he tried to peer over heads to the entrance— they were at a standstill.

It was the grand opening of Club Valhalla and Sig had warned him to get there early. Did he listen? No.

His outfit was minimal but effective— black, loose tank that dipped dangerously low against his collarbone, his tightest black jeans, and boots— yet, it had taken him an hour to pick out. He’d made sure his hair was combed back, curls looking effortless despite all the effort. Lastly, a fresh coat of black varnish on his nails. If he was going to be late, he was going to be _fashionably late_.

Now he was paying the price.

Suddenly, the crowd started to turn, an eruption of irritated murmurs as the line dissipated. He caught the shoulder of a girl with pink hair and nose ring, she shot him a murderous glare, and he let his hand fall at once.

“What’s going on?”

“They aren’t letting anyone else in.”

Loki’s heart sank. “Fuck,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone to see three missed texts from Sig.

“Yeah, and the bouncer is kind of a dick,” she told him, before shrugging her jacket over her shoulders and following the crowd down the street.

 **Sig** [ received: 11:18 pm ] – _loki! i told you to get here early!!_

 **Sig** [ received: 11:24 pm ] – _val said they aren’t letting anyone else in_

 **Sig** [ received: 11:24 pm ] – _> :( _

There was no one left on the street, everyone leaving to find another bar to party at. Loki eyed the man at the door, the bouncer who was apparently kind of a dick. He looked very much like bouncers do—tall, broad, muscled to hell. He wore that intimidating scowl, with his arms crossed and stance sturdy.

Loki put on his best smile, the one that he had on good authority was _charming_. With enough confidence to knock someone out, he sauntered to the door, gave the bouncer a brief glance, and tugged at the door.

“Just came out for a smoke.”

The man raised an eyebrow and blue eyes traveled down his arm to his wrist.

“Wristband?”

Loki looked down as if he just noticed his arm was bare.

“Oh, it must have come off,” he said, all fake innocence. He gave the door a hard tug open, loud bass and music poured onto the sidewalk. “I’ll just be—”

A large hand pushed the door back closed, the bouncer was watching him with a strange twinkle in his eye.

Now that Loki could see him properly under the warm streetlight and neon signs of the club, he could see the man was obscenely attractive. Bouncing must be a side-job because he was model material. Or, porn star material. Loki licked his lips slowly. Yeah, he liked that option much better.

“No wristband, no entry,” he said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Loki was a lot less upset than he had been minutes ago. He moved away from the door, to stand next to the gorgeous bouncer/model/hopefully-porn-star and leaned against the brick of the building.

“What’s your name?” Loki asked, in his lowest, most sultry voice.

“Thor,” the bouncer answered, and there was the slightest twitch of his lip.

 _Got him_.

“Well, Thor, I guess I’ll just have to wait out here with you.”


	50. infidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on a three word prompt sent by bruhthorki! -- how could you?

“ _How could you_?”

Her voice was dripping with heartbreak, betrayal. It quenched the thirst that burned deep in Loki’s dark heart. Brown eyes filled with tears, and she stubbornly blinked them away. Her car keys were still in her hand, and she clenched her fist and turned to leave.

That was when Thor finally kicked into action, his brain probably finally processing that his little wife just walked in on him with his cock buried to the hilt in a body that wasn’t hers. Loki turned his face into the sheets, smiling, and bucked back to find Thor still hard, despite what had transpired.

“Wait—”

But she was gone, and his fingers were gripping bruises on Loki’s hips. It hurt, and he wanted more.

Loki had known, of course. He’d met Thor in the bookstore a block from his house earlier that day. He asked him to coffee, and Thor said yes, and Loki spent the entire afternoon staring at the gold band on his ring finger while sliding his foot up and down his thigh beneath the café table.

Now he was on his knees, back arched, and face shoved into the mattress with Thor mounted behind him, splitting him open so good he could cry. Loki turned his head, looking up at Thor with a cheek pressed into the sheets, and batted his eyes innocently.

“Can you at least finish in me first?”

Thor growled something feral and pulled him closer. Just like at the café, when Loki had pulled him into a rough kiss by the car and requested Thor take him home— Thor didn’t deny him.


	51. colors

“This one.”

Thor reached over Loki’s shoulder and pulled a card from the wall of colors. It was red— bold, vibrant red. The room was a nursery, not a matador fantasy. Loki plucked it gingerly from his fingers, making a dramatic show of neatly tucking it back in from which it came.

“Absolutely not.”


	52. tribute

The camera zooms in and out of focus, blurring the image of the two brothers until its definition is crisp. Thor leans into Loki, whispers something in his ear and Loki smiles, soft and edged with sadness.

They straighten their backs and try to focus themselves. Thor gives a tiny wave, but there is something melancholy about the scene. Bitter-sweet.

“Thank you,” Thor says into the camera.

Loki pulls his brother in closer, nodding.

“Yes, for everything.”

The video goes static— cuts to black.

–

 _Thank you, Stan Lee._  
(1922-2018)


	53. snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the sweet loki-stone @ tumblr! who did a three word prompt, "it was snowing". thank you for being patient! but i woke up and it was snowing this morning!! so what a perfect time!

“It was snowing,” Loki said into the rim of his mug. He tried to act disappointed, but there was a spark in his gut, warming him more than his tea. A thrill at the thought of being alone with Thor the entire weekend. “They aren’t going to be able to make it.”

He liked Thor’s friends well enough; he even sometimes considered them his friends as well. But he liked Thor more— though he shouldn’t.

They were roommates in a cramped dorm back at University, it was only a matter of time before Thor began to invade his every thought.

It took Loki too long to figure out why that was— why was he wondering what Thor was doing while taking calls at his desk? Why was he thinking about how Thor said his favorite color was red when picking up fleece blankets for their chilly shared space? Why was he getting Thor one at all? Why was he thinking about how warm Thor was pressed beside him during movie night?

It wasn’t until he thought about Thor in the shower and things got a little out of control that he realized _why_.

“Maybe it will let up and they can make a delayed flight?” Thor wondered, walking over to Loki by the window and peeking out the blinds at their own frozen landscape. 

Loki’s heart sank just a little. He swallowed down another gulp of tea and, this time real, disappointment.

“Maybe,” he hummed and leaned against the window sill. “If we are lucky.”

Thor, misjudging Loki’s grave demeanor, reached out to put a firm, warm hand on his shoulder. He gave a reassuring squeeze and smiled.

“You still have me.” Another squeeze. “It won’t be so bad.”

Loki scoffed, shrugging Thor away and shrinking further into himself, hiding his smile behind the mug.

If _he_ was lucky, and he usually was, he would be _having_ Thor in more ways than one. 

“No, I guess not.”


	54. hair

In a faraway fortress made of rock and ice, lived a King and his son, too little for their world. Laufey-King tried in vain to hide the young prince away— for there was prophecy told! A child born unto the house of Laufey, small in stature, but large in heart, would rise for the fall of Asgard.

King Odin was not one to be trifled with; a long time enemy of Jotunheim, Laufey-King was all too familiar with his bloodthirsty tactics. Just coming out of a brutal war, he knew they were in no shape for war. So, he kept the young prince hidden— Prince Loki.

Word of a runt traveled fast in the icy plains, and it wasn’t long until Laufey-King woke to find the royal nursery empty and barren. Not a drop of blood, not a body to be found. At least King Odin had shown kindness in that regard.

Jotunheim wept for their lost prince, their withering kingdom, and their stolen hope at revenge.

\--

There had been every plan to kill the Jotun and end the prophecy. But, even King Odin had a heart, and when he held the blue babe in his hands, he decided to show mercy.

He sent a raven back to Asgard: _Build a tower._

Prince Loki was locked away, to spend his days alone and out of reach of his destiny.

Perhaps death would have been a kinder fate.

\--

Loki first saw him the eve of his sixteenth birthday from his bedroom window. The grounds around his tower were typically empty, save for the occasional guard. But, this boy was no sentry. He looked to be about Loki’s age—though his appearance favored that of his tutors. Fair skin, fair hair, with no horns or blue skin.

Loki finished his braid and leaned out the window.

“You there!”

The boy jumped, startled. He held a wooden practice sword tightly in his hands, raising it up as if to strike.

 “Who said that?” he shouted, blonde hair flopping with the vigorous turns of his head.

“Up here!”

The boy turned his head upwards, and for the first time Loki got a good look at his face. There was a flutter in his chest that he had never before experienced. It was new— _different_.

“What are you doing up there?”

Loki leaned against the window sill, looking down, and his braid falling over his shoulder. The boy squinted up, a toothy smile on his face. Loki couldn’t help but return it.

“I live here!”

“Come down!”

Loki frowned then, he looked back to the door that led to the spiraling stairs. The door at the bottom wouldn’t budge, he knew that.

“I can’t. It’s locked.”

He blinked at that, eyes flitting to somewhere ahead of him.

“Haven’t you a key?”

Loki shook his head somberly.

The boy pretended to think, snapping his fingers and letting out a triumphant noise.

“Grow your hair out! Then I will climb up to you!”

Loki hid his smile behind his hand, stifling his laugh. He could hear giggling from below, and his whole body felt lighter, like he was standing on a cloud.

“I’m Loki,” he called down.

“Thor!”

Gently, he touched his braid, dark curls twisted together. It only came to his waist; it wasn’t long enough.

Yet.


	55. first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my nephew was born tonight!! it was very hectic. so today’s is short and sweet. :’) (it’s also messy and flows like a clogged pipe, but that’s fine!)

The first time Loki reached out, it was to find Thor.

The first time Loki laughed, it was Thor who caused it. 

The first time Loki cried, it was Thor who remedied it.

The first time Loki bled, it was Thor who staunched it.

The first time Loki loved, it was Thor who earned it.

The first time Loki felt heartbreak, it was when Thor courted another.

The first time Loki sought revenge, it was on Thor who couldn’t understand why.

The first time Loki kissed, it was Thor’s lips on his own. 

The first time Loki confessed, Thor kissed him again.


	56. gladiator

The sun was hot on his skin, beating down until a thin sheen glistened on his brow. A servant on each side of the gilded chair fanned a palm leaf, but it did nothing for the stifling heat. 

Though— the temperature wasn’t the only thing lighting a fire beneath Loki’s skin. 

In the middle of the arena stood a gladiator by the name of Thor— a strong, fit man plucked from a farm on the outskirts of the city when he couldn’t pay a debt. Loki had been told Thor would put up a good fight; and, as it stood, there were three broken bodies at his feet. 

His chest heaved with anger or adrenaline— Loki couldn’t be sure. But, when those sharp blue eyes snapped to the stands and locked on him, Loki leaned forward and snapped his fingers. 

“Bring me that one when he’s finished.”


	57. mistletoe

Thor Odinson had plenty of good ideas. If he had to name them off the top of his head, he couldn’t. Not because they were lacking—but because he was humble.

Right.

Bad ideas, on the other hand, well, he could spout those off with ease.

The worst one of all was sitting across from him in the passenger seat wearing tight pants and a cashmere sweater. His little brother stared out the window, a look of utter indifference schooled on his sharp feathers.

Thor white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, and Loki simply shrugged his shoulders. He acted like it was fine but, in his peripherals, Thor could see him picking at his thumbnail.

“It's not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, they both knew it. It was _weird_.

They hadn’t really thought it out, and to be fair, it was Loki’s fault.

A girl from work, that he liked well-enough, had repeatedly dropped hints that she interested. Interested, _interested_. Thor, however, was not. Last Thursday she hung over his desk, too close and too friendly, when Loki stopped by to drop off lunch.

Then, sensing Thor’s distress, he introduced himself as Thor’s _boyfriend_.

But Loki wasn’t Thor’s boyfriend. Loki was his brother— his younger brother.

The charade worked, Loki had pecked the top of his head and sat his food on the desk, and Thor had blushed on cue. His co-worker backed off but then began to bombard him with questions he didn’t have answers to, forcing him to improvise.

Now the entire office believed he was in a committed relationship with Loki. They took a trip to the Bahamas two summers ago (it was actually a family vacation). Thor loved visiting Loki’s studio and seeing his brows furrowed, staring at a canvas with paint on his cheek. They’d been childhood sweethearts. Loki was his best friend.

Every lie, or half-truth, made his co-worker’s swoon with a lovesick envy.

It had been fun to indulge them with little tidbits of his and Loki’s relationship. Until the Christmas party was brought up and Loki was expected to attend. It was then that Thor looked up from the hole he dug himself— so deep he could barely see the sky.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he finally muttered.

“You know me well enough, it shouldn’t be too hard to act smitten.”

Thor gave a nervous chuckle.

That was the problem.

\--

The party went great— for about one hour.

Janice from accounting pulled him to the side with a worried look and gentle hand on his arm, asking if everything was okay between him and Loki. He blinked a few times and found his brother in the crowd mingling in a small group with a glass of wine poised delicately in his hand and leaning a little too far into one of the interns.

The only sensible thing was to march over and curl his arm around Loki’s waist to pull him close. He only protested a little, huffing under his breath before resuming his review of a local gallery showing. Thor let him chatter on, smiling politely at the man and woman he vaguely remembered from the third floor. The intern suddenly seemed disenchanted by Loki’s charm, and Thor was only a _little_ smug for it.

“Isn’t that right?” Loki’s smooth voice broke Thor from his reverie.

“What was that?”

Loki was looking up at him, batting his big, green eyes and cradling his now-empty wine glass to his chest. His lips were tinted the faintest red, and his cheeks pink— both effects of the alcohol.

“I said you were taking me the mountains in the spring,” Loki purred, a sly little smile on his face.

Of course, they had discussed no such thing, but leave it to Loki to weasel himself something out of the deal.

Thor could play this game.

“I’ve already booked us a cottage upstate for the two of us,” Thor said, turning to press a kiss against Loki’s temple. “A really nice honeymoon suite.”

Loki stiffened under his arm, then pursed his lips like he was choosing his next words carefully. In the end, he said nothing, and Thor bid the group farewell to mingle— _not_ to escape the butterflies in his stomach.

\--

The best way to deal with butterflies was to drown them. Fortunately for Thor, there was plenty of catalysts to do so.

By the time Loki found him again, his head was fuzzy and the beating in his chest was from something other than his brother. And, from the look of it, he wasn’t in much better shape. Dark, fly-away hairs stuck out from his pony-tail, his face was flushed, and his eyes red-rimmed.

Loki reached out and pawed at his sweater, dragging him close and flat against him. He licked his lips once, twice.

“I’m supposed to kiss you,” Loki said, matter-of-factly.

Thor’s heart shot to his throat, he swallowed it down.

“What?”

Loki didn’t say anything, only looked up, and Thor followed his gaze. A tiny ball of mistletoe, tied with red ribbon and bells, hung above them.

“They think we are in love,” Loki blurted out, and Thor looked back down at him. His eyes were wide with something that resembled fear.

“I know,” Thor said slowly. “That’s why we are here.”

At the party— _not_ under the mistletoe. That part was just cruel fate.

“Do you love me?” Loki whispered.

Thor reached up to cup his cheek, the warmth rushing over him. He felt connected.

Did he love Loki? He was his brother, of course, he did. But— there was more, deep down. Things he could never bring to light.

The answer was still the same.

“Yes.”

“Then kiss me,” Loki pleaded. It was desperate, his brows furrowed and his eyes darting back and forth—searching Thor’s face, preparing himself for rejection. “It’s just for show.”

Right. Because this was pretend. An illusion that Loki had cast.

That’s all.

He had another bad idea.

Thor dipped his head and pressed his lips to Loki’s and everything clicked into place— his worse fears confirmed.

He was in love with his brother.

He was kissing his brother, and his brother was kissing him back.

Thor pulled away, and Loki chased the kiss before he realized it had ended. He licked his lips, tried to savor the taste of Loki a little longer.

Before the illusion faded.

Loki watched him carefully, an inner turmoil evident. Thor turned to leave— to run— but Loki stopped him first, snatching him by the front of the sweater and kissing him again. There was more vigor, more desperation, and Loki sighed against his lips, parting them to allow Thor in.

They broke away only when they were breathless. Thor could have kept going all night, but there were a few uncomfortable coughs and murmurs that stopped him.

“That was—”

“Good,” Loki finished. He nodded to himself and smoothed out the front of Thor’s sweater where he had bunched it up in his fist. “That was good.”


	58. late

Thor saw him in the grocery, of course. It was the most domestic place imaginable to meet the love of your life.

The only problem was, the man didn't know that's what he was to Thor, not yet at least.

It wasn't like they even knew each other's name.

Thor just so happened to see the gorgeous specimen of a human in the cereal aisle, reading the nutrient labels with a stony face of concentration. He was all sharp angles, with dark hair pulled back, wearing a smart looking jumper. 

Adorable, really.

Thor readied himself to make small talk, and if he was lucky, leave with a number.

He wasn't ten steps away when a woman with auburn hair and pixie-like features rounded the corner with a container of deli meat and kiss for him on the cheek. It was only then that Thor recognized the glint of gold on the man's finger.

Thor kept on pushing, ignoring the couple and the sinking feeling in his chest.

He missed the way the man's eyes followed him, glossy with tears.

 


	59. sneak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi! i just want everyone to know that i read and appreciate every single comment. <3 thank you for your encouragement.

“Do you see those two?”

Astrid grabbed Dagny by the arm and pulled her to the side, the tray in her hand nearly toppled over. When she didn’t immediately pay attention, her fellow barmaid grabbed her forcefully by the chin and rotated her head to the far-left corner of the tavern.

Two young men sat together, leaning close to each other, whispering between them. Both wore cloaks with hoods slung high over their head. But Dagny recognized the bigger one with blonde hair falling from the shadows.

“Prince Thor—”

Astrid jabbed her hard in the side and shushed her. Dagny shot her a look, but almost instantly redirected her attention back to the Prince and his companion. She couldn’t see the other as well, everything was hidden but a sharp nose and sly, twisted lips.

“Who is that?”

“Prince Loki,” Astrid whispered, and Dagny nodded. Of course.

Thor was typically in the spotlight, and Loki stayed behind the scenes. Though, Thor was the Crown Prince, so his publicity was expected. It still didn’t explain what they were doing in a tavern in the lower district of Asgard.

As if reading her mind, her friend answered, “They come here often, renting rooms.”

There was something suggestive in her voice, and Dagny’s eyebrows shot up. Surely, she didn’t mean—

“They are brothers!”

Astrid only shrugged.

“Yes, the entire hallway knows it by the end of the night. They certainly like to moan it in the throes of passion.”

Dagny felt her ears warm, and she knew her cheeks were flushed at the mere thought.

“Oh,” she murmured, a bit dumbstruck, as she watched the two princes tug each other towards the back rooms.


	60. dagger

His forge saw many people come and go. Some were wealthy nobles looking for custom weapons and armory; some were peasants looking to sell scraps of metal collected from the streets. But, he could safely say the sight standing in the doorway was new and unexpected.

Thor struck the red-hot metal with his hammer once, a loud clang ringing through the small workspace, before setting it down and regarding the boy standing in his doorway with suspicion. He was fair-skinned with dark hair slicked behind his ears, his cheekbones were prominent and nose angular and sharp. He was high-born, that much was obvious— such refined, pretty features.

“M’not looking for an apprentice,” Thor grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The boy didn’t say anything, just carefully walked further into the smithery with a trained curiosity, taking in Thor’s work with a silent appraisal.

“Don’t touch that,” Thor said, when he stopped in front of custom gauntlet he’d just finished— its knuckles were encrusted with gems and the metal had been hard to procure. He didn’t need some stuffy brat damaging it.

Up close Thor could see the fine fabrics and silks of his clothing, deep greens and blacks, trimmed with gold. On his chest lay a brooch pinned to his tunic with the emblem of the House Laufeyson.

So, he was a high-born after all.

“I am not here to ask for an apprenticeship.”

Thor looked down at those delicate hands, long and slender fingers, untouched by hard labor or blistering fires. Thor’s hands had already been callused and scarred before a single hair had sprouted on his chin. Even though the boy looked like he was closer to his sixteenth year, he still looked baby soft.

“What can I do for you?”

For the first time, the young stranger’s lips curled into a smile.

“I wish to buy a dagger.”

Thor couldn’t help but snort back a laugh, which served only to put a scowl on the boy’s face.

“And what would you do with a dagger, little one?”

“Hold your tongue, you are speaking to Loki of House Laufeyson.”

That did shut him up because Loki wasn’t just any Laufeyson, he was Prince of the North. That certainly changed things. Thor couldn’t help but wonder what a child of the snow was doing so far south. 

“Ah,” Thor clicked his tongue. “What do you aim to do with this dagger— should I make you one.”

From his waist, Loki fished out satchel and held it out in his palm. Without touching it, Thor could tell it was heavy with coin.

“You will make me one,” Loki told him, leveling him with a glare, a spark in his green eyes.

Thor nodded, he knew there was no refusal.

“And then?”

“Then,” Loki said with a cruel smile, running his fingers along the hilt of Thor’s hammer. “I will kill the mad Queen Amora.”


	61. return

They say every decision made creates multiple universes, different timelines, infinite possibilities.

It was rare that Loki ended up in the same one twice. But, as he stared up at the stone cottage, overgrown by vine and brush, he knew it to be one of those times.

Loki remembered the house much different. It had belonged to the two of them, him and Thor, and had once been full of life. Now it looked dead, boarded up and dreary against the backdrop of the misty forest.

The back of the house wasn’t much better. With no one to keep it up, the tangle of growth ate up the once carefully cultivated garden. Along the tree line, under the willow, stood a crumbling grave. Loki knelt in front of it, traced his fingers along the crude carving of Thor’s name and dates.

He smiled, bittersweet.

They had lived a good life here, happy and married, until they grew old and Thor fell sick. Despite everything, they were happy memories. Loki wondered where they had buried him. He didn’t remember dying, but he knew he left this world the first time alone. At least Thor had been able to cross with his hand in his.

From behind him, footsteps crunching on dead leaves. The air shifted.

“Loki?”


	62. caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all had a great thanksgiving!! thank you for all your comments. every one!

He had him, finally after years of cat-and-mouse. The infamous bandit, Silvertongue, was in his grasp, pressed against the rough bark of a tree with his hands pinned above his head. He didn’t squirm or thrash—which in hindsight should have tipped Thor to something being off—but, instead, lay slack against the tree with a devilish grin.

“It’s over, Silvertongue,” Thor growled.

He really should have requested back-up for the mountain-side patrol. Though, he never in a million years thought he would actually catch the highwayman who had plagued the town for years.

It’d been easy, too easy, like he had wanted to be caught.

Silvertongue laughed, throwing his head back, long, pale neck glowing in the moonlight.

“Loki, please. Call me Loki,” he said lowly, his voice smooth and formal. He earned his nickname well.

“I should call you criminal,” Thor spat. “That’s what you are.”

Those thin lips curled up, his eyes challenging.

Thor was painfully aware of the position he was in. He had Silver— no, Loki— pinned against the tree with his hands. No way to reach to his holster and grab his weapon, or rope. Loki was known for being slick and crafty. And, though his body was lean, he was strong.

Should it happen, it’d be a fair fight.

“I take from the pompous rich who would rather sit on a pile of coin than aid their starving neighbor. Is that a crime?”

“Yes,” Thor answered because it was. It didn’t matter that he had a point.

“You won’t arrest me.”

“I will.”

“No,” Loki purred, he leaned his head forward, straining in his restraint. “I don’t think you will.”

Before Thor could think, Loki was pressing his lips to his. A warm, chaste thing, that still held the promise of something more passionate beneath it. Startled, Thor loosened his grip and Loki twisted from it. Thor stood frozen, slack-jawed and in shock, as he watched Loki dart away into the woods.

“Until we meet again!” Loki called.

Thor touched his lips, where they burned with the memory of the kiss.

Until then.


	63. stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i just finished a continuation of dagger and i'm so tired. so this is all i have left in my brain. pls take it.

There were times when Loki never found him, there were times when he stopped looking. 

From the lawn chair in his backyard, he looked up at the clear, night sky dotted with stars. Infinite universes. But, that always ended up in the same one.

It had to mean something.


	64. names

The room was trussed up like a daycare— brightly colored walls, a foam, multi-colored puzzle mat, corners filled with toys and pillows, an honest-to-god “hang in there” kitten poster. Loki wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe something a little more adult?

 _It’s_ _not_ _a_ _mixer_ , _Loki_.

That’s what Verity had told him when he debated the pros-and-cons of attending. She was the one that had suggested it to him, a weekly a group for single dads and their kids. Ingrid was barely over a year, she was more interested in sticking anything she could get her tiny hands on in her mouth.

But, Verity insisted, and in the end, she had signed him up for it anyway.

So, he sat on the foam mat holding Ingrid close in his lap. He didn’t trust the toy boxes. When was the last time they were disinfected? Probably never. Boxes of germs.

“I guess we are early.”

Loki looked up to the door to assess the newcomer and was instantly blown away. Tall, broad, blonde and handsome. Never mind the baby in a sling around his chest— those arms were to die for.

Loki meant to say something friendly.

“I thought this meeting was for _single_ dads,” he said instead.

The man blushed, ducking his head and averting his eyes to his child. Adorable, too. There was no way Loki was this lucky, there was no way he was single. And, if there was— no way he was interested in men.

“It is,” the man said slowly. “That’s why we are here.” He motioned down to the baby swaddled to him.

Loki was distracted enough that Ingrid twisted from his grasp and made a beeline for the toybox. She was a mischievous thing; he really hadn’t a clue where she got that from.

“She’s cute, what’s her name?”

Loki didn’t look away from his daughter, he couldn’t stop the small smile from forming. He liked to project a manner of stoicism in the world, but he always softened for her.

“Ingrid,” Loki told him.

“That’s pretty. Suits her.”

A heavy silence, a shuffling of feet.

“What about you?”

Loki looked over to him then, and his smile changed into something else. Something he might call flirty on a good day.

“Loki, you?”

“No way,” he grinned. “You share a name with my son!”

He knelt in front of Loki, moving the swaddle to reveal a chubby-faced babe, eyes closed and sleeping softly.

“It’s a good name, but I suppose I’m partial. Why did you pick it?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know, I just always loved it. It always meant something to me.”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat, and he stared down at the baby to keep from looking at those blue eyes.

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah,” the man said softly. “I’m Thor, by the way.”

“Thor,” Loki repeated, and that name meant something to him.


	65. bonds

It was unfortunate that they met again on the icy battlefields of Jotunheim; white snow and ice stained red from fallen Jotnar and Aesir.

The beginning of their political campaign of reconciliation had begun so well. Loki had acted as Ambassador of the realm; Thor, freshly crowned, had been amicable. It was a wonderful start.

How things turned so sour— Loki wasn’t sure.

He had an idea, of course.

Perhaps it was all the flirting and suggestive conversations he’d had with the Aesir king. Harmless, really. But it made Thor take it personally when Loki used his earned trust to steal back the Casket of Ancient Winters.

And, though Loki had imagined Thor on top of him in many ways, straddling his waist with Mjolnir raised high above his head wasn’t one of them.

“Do you yield?”

Loki scoffed, he was currently being held down by the solid weight of the King of Asgard, about to have his head smashed in with an overgrown hammer.

Of course, he didn’t yield.

“My, Thor, you look ravishing,” Loki said with a wicked grin.

It wasn’t a lie— Thor looked exceptional against the backdrop of Jotunheim. His cape billowed red behind him, and his icy blue eyes narrowed. There was no humor on his handsome face.

Loki pressed his head into the snow, inky black hair spilling over like oil. Thor pulled his hammer back farther, preparing to strike. And, for the first time, there was panic.

Thor looked murderous and betrayed.

“Retreat your forces, concede to Asgard’s army.”

Anger bubbled inside Loki, and he did well to restrain himself from slapping Thor across the cheek with an open palm. To back down would be shameful, and Loki was already a Jotun of stunted pride. He’d fought and clawed his way to earn his rank, despite his nobility, to rise above his height. Thor knew this, and yet he had the audacity to ask Loki to give it up.

“Jotunheim has already lost, let them fight to the death. Let them die with honor,” Loki spat.

“Everyone of them will die. There will be only you left. You will be the Prince of Nothing.”

Loki let out a hollow laugh, it rang through the plains.

“And then what? You would kill me?”

For the briefest of moments, something flashed across Thor’s face. He blinked it away and his scowl returned.

“If Asgard commands it.”

Loki’s blue lips curled back to reveal his clenched teeth. Of course, Thor would put his realm and himself before anyone else. Yet, he chastised Loki for doing the same thing. He knew that the people of Asgard would demand his execution, as sure as he knew Thor would follow through with it.

Jotunheim was already lost, at least he could save himself.

Before Thor could react, Loki grabbed the sides of his face, jerking him down. His blue fingers sunk into the soft flesh of his cheeks, and Loki closed his eyes and reached for his seidr, weaving a spell with an enchantment whispered under his breath. Thor tried to pull away, but the magic had already taken root. Loki could feel it in his bones; he felt stronger.

Thor pulled back, dropping the hammer and grabbing at his face where Loki had touched him.

“What did you do, witch?”

Loki let him squirm just a little longer. Thor kept checking his palms, then flipped over to look at the backs of his hands, and then back to examining the palms. It was as if he thought he would turn into a fish.

“I bonded us,” Loki said calmly— though he was anything but calm. The bonding spell was complicated magic and not easily broken. It was a foolish decision to bond with his sworn enemy, but it was also his best hope at not ending up a pile of mush beneath the blunt surface of Mjolnir.

“Should you harm me,” Loki continued. “Or, knowingly let harm come to me…”

Thor looked at him in horror.

“You will too die.”

Thor was staring down at him, cold wind whipping his golden hair. Loki could see the gears turning in his head, processing what that meant, working out how to proceed. Would he leave Loki on the frozen wasteland littered with the body of his fallen countrymen? Or, would he bring Loki back to Asgard to live safely in the palace?

Loki would happily take either of those options if it meant he stay alive.

“So,” he said to Thor. “Let’s make the best of it.”


	66. trade

He wasn’t supposed to wander into the depths, it was an unspoken rule of Asgard. Being Crown Prince of the underwater kingdom, Thor was obligated to obey those rules.

Alas, he was young, spirited, and in love. Under these circumstances, the rules hardly mattered to him. So, he swam deeper than any Asgardian before him. His powerful red tail propelling him to darker, colder waters.

It was in a cavern that he found who he was looking for. Loki, the sea-witch. Tales in Asgard painted him to be a heinous beast, not unlike the creatures that dwelled on the very bottom of the ocean floor— terrifying with numerous teeth too big for his mouth, and big bulging eyes incapable of sight. Yet, the creature before him was anything but. The bioluminescent algae made the cave glow blue, lighting up the sea-witch like a King in his own right.

Beautiful.

Loki dropped from his perch; eight, powerful, black tentacles spreading to make the motion graceful and delicate, much like the rest of him. His hair, dark like his many appendages, spread out around him like an ominous halo. He approached Thor like a predator to prey.

Thor swallowed, out of his element. He didn’t move when a clawed hand reached up to smooth at his cheek.

“Odinson, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Loki purred, swiping his hand away and retreating.

Thor felt a tickle at his tailfin and looked to see one of Loki’s tentacle arms wrapping around it—he wiggled out of its grasp and Loki threw his head back in a fit of laughter.

He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “I have come to ask a favor."

“Oh?” Loki’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curling. At the very least, he looked intrigued. “Is that not what all Asgardians want from me? Favors?”

“I will pay—”

“I am not interested in your gold, Prince!” Loki snapped, surging forward and wrapping a tentacle around the thickness of Thor’s neck; the suckers made a painful grip on the delicate skin found there.

“Name your price,” Thor wheezed out.

Loki loosened his grip, looking him up and down. Appraising, yet humiliating.

“First I will need to know the favor you ask of me.”

The hold on Thor’s neck released and the tentacle slipped away. Thor rubbed at the tender flesh, his gills fluttering at the touch. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a dotting of tiny bruises come morning. That was unimportant, he was there for a reason.

“I wish you to make me human.”

Loki balked. “Even I’m not cruel enough to assign such a punishment.”

Thor wasn’t surprised at Loki’s revulsion, most sea-folk despised humans and the world beyond the water. He too held the same hatred in his heart, until he happened across a maiden out at sea, searching the stars through a peculiar instrument. He had been enamored, and he called to her from the rough waters, ducking beneath the waves when she traded her gaze from the sky to the sea.

But though Thor sat in the forbidden depths with the banished sea-witch, contact with humans was a rule he could not bend.

Loki must have read the expression on Thor’s face because he pretended to wretch and swiveled around to pluck out ingredients on carved shelves in the cave wall.

“Don’t tell me it’s for love.”

Thor thought of his doe-eyed maiden and sighed wistfully.

“You are no more than a guppy! You know nothing of love,” Loki bit out, crushing a snail with a blunt rock. Despite his protests, it seemed he was still complying.

Thor swished his tail, knocking it into Loki, who batted it away unfazed.

“I am of age! And, willing to trade my fins, my home, and my crown for a chance to be with her.”

Loki spun around, holding a pellet wrapped in seaweed. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes, but Thor could not put a name to it. He held out the little ball, smiling, but when Thor reached for it, he snatched it back out of his grasp.

“I require a payment, remember?”

Thor stared at Loki’s fist, where he knew the answer to his problem was held. He would give the sea-witch anything.

“Name your price,” he said for a second time.

Loki’s smile turned devious, and he propelled himself over to Thor, circling him, dragging his tentacles gently over his tailfin. One sticky, black arm came up to tilt his chin back, forcing him to look Loki in the eyes, glowing blue-green in the cavern.

“Your voice, in exchange for three days. If you haven’t sealed your love with a kiss, you will return to your natural state.”

Thor gulped. “That’s it?”

The tentacle at his chin swept to his cheek, stroking it. The answer was clear, there was more. It felt like bubbles in his stomach.

“No, if you fail you return to the depths with me. You will be mine.”

Loki held the magic pellet eye-level with him, a challenging look on his face.

“Do you accept?”

“Yes,” he said, irritated, and grabbed for it again. Loki’s fingers curled shut.

“First, your voice.”

\--

Loki watched from the bay as a young maiden rushed to Thor’s side. Thor stood, wobbly on his new legs, stark naked. Even with his strange new appendages, he was handsome. There was only a hint of jealousy as the woman steadied him, looking up with a worried expression. Thor opened his mouth, but Loki knew no words were coming out.

Thor’s voice was locked safely in a pendant hanging from his neck.

Three nights, that was all he would wait.

Three nights, Thor would be his.


	67. edge

Two boys sat on the edge of the world, hand in hand. Beneath them, the infinite expanse of space and the cosmos. 

“Hundreds of universes. Do you love me in every one?”

“Do I love you in this one?”

Thor knocked Loki’s shoulder, smile on his face.

”You do,” Thor told him.

”I do.”


	68. hunter

please read [no time left to borrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777252) for the story!   
and please let me know what you think.   
i appreciate and love every comment!

<3


	69. carving

They sat beneath the tangle and brush of the forest. It was their own little clearing, where the light filtered down in warm, yellowed rays. At the heart of it stood a giant oak, old with gnarled roots that protruded from the ground— they provided an excellent sitting area for the two brothers.

Thor had his pocket knife out carving into the tree trunk with a devoted determination, little pink tongue poking out.

“Mother says we shouldn’t play with knives,” Loki noted, but his tone made it obvious that he hardly cared. He leaned forward, watching the angular letters Thor engraved.

“Mother says _you_ shouldn’t play with knives,” Thor corrected. “I’m allowed.”

“Why? Because you are older?”

Thor paused and looked to his little brother, small on the large knot of the root. He was swinging his feet back and forth, and when he caught Thor looking, gave a large smile— missing tooth and all.

“Yes,” Thor said with practiced patience. “Because I’m older.”

“Older than this tree?” Loki needled.

Thor sighed fondly and rolled his eyes. He finished the carving, hopping from the tree and standing back to admire his handiwork.

Loki stared at it, perplexed, head tilting from side-to-side. “Totlo? What’s Totlo?”

“Looooki!” Thor groaned, grabbing for his little brother’s hand to help him from the tree root. He hit the ground with a soft thud, their hands stayed linked, palms sweaty from the midday heat.

“It says T.O and L.O.”

Loki’s lips made a little _‘O’_ shape, and he looked back up to the tree. “I see it now,” he said.

A long silence.

“What does it mean?” Loki asked.

Thor closed his eyes. Mother told him to be patient with his brother, he was still young, still learning. Yet, Thor knew he was smart and clever and was only acting oblivious to annoy him. Lo and behold, when he opened one eye and cut it to his right, Loki was hiding a fit of giggles from behind his hand.

“It means,” Thor said, pulling him to his side and ruffling his perfectly combed hair. “It means that I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might be asking yourself, "tesla...why didn't you do something horny for entry 69??" and the answer is: i forgot what number i was on.


	70. stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was working on a longer one, but got sleepy. expect that tomorrow!

Frigga held her son in her lap. He wiggled aimlessly as little children did, with no real destination. She combed her fingers through his blonde hair, calming him with soft coos and hums. 

"Do you see that star?" she asked. Thor looked up at the night sky, blinking in awe. There were many stars twinkling on such a clear night, but she knew Thor know precisely which one. "That's your guardian star. Loki, the trickster," she said when Thor pointed a chubby finger to the brightest star in the sky.

At first, she had been worried when such a star was assigned to her son. But, the universe had smiled on Thor since he was just babe swaddled to her chest. Frigga knew that Thor's guardian was responsible. 

"Loki," Thor whispered, words whistling through his missing front tooth. "Hello."

Frigga couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Loki was burning a little brighter.


	71. stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i had to work until 1:30 am and now it’s almost 2 and i’m sleeeeeepy. :’)

There was a man standing at the mailboxes of their apartment building. He shuffled through papers with an unnecessary concentration, and when Thor muttered a polite greeting, he did a double take.

” _You_ ,” the man breathed out. There was a fiery loathing burning in his green eyes. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

 


	72. trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ nsfw, consensual underage -- both parties ]

Loki threw his duffle bag down on his new bed, though using the term _new_ may have been a little generous. It squeaked when he sat on the edge, the coiled springs giving with the weight. He was going to feel those in the morning. The dusty quilt smelt of mothballs and the pillow looked lumpy. Yet, Loki wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep.

“What’re you in for?”

The voice came from one of three beds in the room, a girl about his age with dark skin and darker hair that was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head. She picked at the black varnish on her nails, regarding Loki with a lofty air.

She made it sound like prison, but it couldn’t be worse than where he came from.

Loki shrugged, and she continued to stare. It was unnerving, annoying. There were enough stares back at home. He had hoped this hellhole would at least offer an escape.

“Name,” she said, and it wasn’t a question, but a demand.

“Loki.”

“Val,” she said.

“Didn’t ask,” Loki snapped, carefully removing his clothes from his bag. They didn’t let him take much, which was fine because he didn’t have much to begin with. She didn’t seem to care, only rolling her shoulders and leaning forward. More staring, like Loki was a puzzle to be solved.

“We are all here for a reason,” Val finally said, and Loki scoffed.

No shit.

Yondu was an older, weathered man, with a rough accent and mohawk. Not exactly the kind of man you handed over a group of troubled teens to. He must have had some credentials because there were three of them, according to his mother, four including Loki. There was probably some sob story hidden in there, Yondu growing up on the wrong side of the tracks or something, but Loki didn’t care to hear it.

He just wanted silence, and to be left alone.

Loki laid back and stared at a water stain on the ceiling, trying to figure out what it looked like. An eggplant maybe.

That entertained him all of three minutes.

“So, why are you here?” Loki asked, quietly, to the ceiling.

Val told him she liked to drink, Gamora liked to fight, and she was pretty sure Peter was just abducted to do chores. She hadn’t really figured out what landed him there yet. Loki considered telling her how he had been caught with his hand down the neighbor boy’s pants but decided against it. Anyway, she hadn’t asked again.

\--

“Church service, seriously?”

Loki straightened the tie clipped to his neck, it was too skinny, looked strange paired with the too-big button-up. He didn’t have any dress clothes though, so Yondu scrounged up something from a box of previous kids.

Val was dressed much the same.

“Yondu gets aid through the local churches,” she told him with a mouthful of apple. “We have to keep up appearances.”

Maybe, Loki thought, it was one of those megachurches, with fifty flat screens and a live band. He could deal with that if he pretended that he was at some prestigious red-carpet event. He gave himself a once-over and rolled his eyes at his own appearance. Yeah, because he really looked like red-carpet material.

\--

The church was no a megachurch. It was down the road, past the graveyard, and pretty much the blandest thing he’d ever seen. White siding, two pathetic stained-glass windows, and a weatherworn steeple that looked like it was about to collapse.

They sat close to the front row on the left-hand side. The pews were uncomfortable, padded with worn red velvet. Loki shifted in his seat, trying and failing to find a comfortable position until Val elbowed him sharp in the side.

He settled for obnoxiously chewing his gum, blowing bubbles and popping them loudly. Yondu, who sat the at the far end of the lot, stared down at him with a murderous glare while the gaggle of old ladies sang a hymn with goat-like voices.

After a particularly loud pop, a mess of shaggy blonde hair turned to him from a few pews up. It was the first face under forty he’d seen outside their merry band of mischief. He looked to be about Loki’s age but much more put together. His face was clean and handsome, eyes blue framed with dark lashes, and a bowtie under his chin.

Cute, Loki decided.

They stared at each other a little longer than necessary, until Loki blew another bubble, popping it and slowly licking the gum from his bottom lip. The boy turned red and spun back around in his seat, and Loki grinned triumphantly.

“Who was that?” he whispered to Val. She pulled the inconspicuously placed headphone from her ear and Loki vaguely gestured in the boy’s direction.

“Thor, preacher’s son. Watch out for him.”

Loki hummed under his breath and leaned back, watching the back of Thor’s head.

\--

The following Sunday, Loki dug through the box of forgotten clothes himself. He found a shirt that fit him a little better, clung to him a little more, and some more tailored slacks. Turning in the full-length mirror, he examined his reflection— most importantly, his ass.

“Really getting dressed up for the Lord,” Val commented, but he knew she knew exactly who he was getting dressed up for.

“Shut up.”

\--

Loki requested that he sit a little closer. Yondu stared at him with thinly-veiled skepticism, which in turn caused Loki to bat his eyelashes and rest his chin against his fists. The perfect image of an angel.

In the end, he relented, and Loki spent the entirety of service making eyes at Thor— who watched him from the corner of his vision with red cheeks.

\--

Two weeks later, and two flirt sessions later, Loki found himself being pulled from his group to the side of the church, where the building cast a shadow and the weeds grew to their ankles.

Thor still had ahold of his wrist, and Loki stared at it, and then him with raised eyebrows.

“Hi,” Thor fumbled. He pulled his hand back, their fingers grazing and making Loki’s stomach do flips.

This close, face-to-face, Loki was both pleased and displeased to say he was even more attractive. There was the barest hint of stubble on his cheeks, his features were strong, his lips were plump and glistening from licking them one too many times.

“Hello,” Loki said slowly. “Can I help you?”

“Your over at Yondu’s right?”

Loki frowned, he knew the implications of that. Thor probably viewed him as a charity case, someone to fix. That would be sure to please his father.

“Yeah, so?” He could help but sound defensive.

“Oh, it’s just,” Thor started, his mouth working with no real sounds coming out. He looked embarrassed, which was ridiculous. It was Loki who should be embarrassed. They weren’t cut from the same cloth, this had been a mistake—

“What’s your name?”

Oh.

“Loki.”

\--

Loki hadn’t been able to get Thor out of his mind, he consumed him.

Their time had been cut short the previous week, much to his dismay. As a result, Loki was forced to quickly tease himself under the covers while his roommates slept. He came in his hand, eyes screwed tight, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from whispering Thor’s name.

And, as he lay in his own mess, only halfway ashamed, he devised a plan.

They sat behind the Borson’s again, Loki directly behind Thor. Odin was already drawling on about some scripture that he couldn’t be damned to care about, and Thor’s mother was preoccupied with the baby softly cooing her lap and threatening to cry.

“May I go to the restroom?” Loki asked Yondu, several seats away from him. He whispered it loud enough that he knew Thor heard. His caregiver gave him a nod of approval, and Val fixed him with a knowing smirk.

\--

It wasn’t five minutes later that Thor opened the door to the restroom, purposely left unlocked for precisely that reason.

Good, he wasn’t dim after all.

“Took you long enough.”

He was already in Thor’s space, crowding him against the wall and reaching behind him to lock the door. Their bodies pressed against each other, Loki leaned into it, relishing the warmth. It had been so long since he’d last felt the comfort of another. He realized then how much he missed it, how lonely his heart truly ached for affection.

“Someone might notice us gone,” Thor whimpered, but he didn’t back down or attempt to pull away. Instead, he canted his hips upwards, slotting them against Loki’s, and when Loki reached between them to cup his cock, he found Thor halfway to hard already.

“Do you know why I’m at Yondu’s?” Loki said conversationally, kneading and pressing until Thor was panting and stiff in his hand. He didn’t wait for Thor to respond before continuing. “My mom found me in a position similar to this.”

Thor’s head slammed back against the door, closing his eyes and already gasping. If Loki had to guess, this was the first time a hand other than his own had touched him. That thought sent a thrill down his spine, and a desperation to be the one to make Thor come.

“It was a shame,” Loki whispered in his ear, licking and nipping at the lobe until he finally coaxed out a low moan. It was a delicious sound that Loki drank up eagerly. His fingers moved to the button of Thor’s pants, popping it open so that he could slip his hand inside, rubbing his palm flat against the hard cock he found straining against boxer-briefs. “I didn’t even get a chance to do what I really wanted.”

Thor’s eyes opened at that, looking down at Loki curiously.

“What’s that?”

Loki looked at him with a sparkle in his eye, slipping Thor’s slacks down in one, fluid movement. His cock was just as impressive as he’d imagined. What it lacked in length was made up for in girth, a heavy weight in his hand, solid and leaking.

Loki’s mouth watered as he sank to his knees. He knew this would be over quickly, but that was fine. They didn’t have much time to begin with.

Thor let out a low gasp when Loki’s mouth sunk down on him. It was sloppy, and he choked only a couple of times, working Thor with his lips, tongue, and hand. He had no clue whether what he was doing was considering good—having no real context— but he did know that Thor was grabbing at the wall behind him and the sweetest sounds were falling from his lips.

“Loki,” he whined, a hand coming down to tangle itself in Loki’s hair.

Loki pressed down, taking as much as he could when Thor tried to pull him off. Swallowing him down would be the most effective way to clean up and hide the evidence. Not to mention, Loki had been fantasizing about how Thor would taste on his tongue all week.

Salty, and thick—that was the answer. Loki found that he loved it. And, he pulled his own cock out just in time to spill all over the bathroom tile. He pulled off Thor, sucking the last drops from him with a lewd pop.

Loki wasted no time grabbing paper towels and cleaning himself and the floor up. Thor, on the other hand, stood slumped against the wall with his— now soft— cock out, panting and staring at Loki with a dazed expression and sloppy grin.

“We should get back,” Loki told him, but that happy look in Thor’s eye did something to his chest. He wanted to stay in the cramped bathroom, as disgusting as that was, and let Thor use his body as he saw fit. But Loki wasn’t lying—they really needed to get back.

It wouldn’t sit too well if anyone found the preacher’s son with his pants undone and the troubled teen from down the road with the scent of him on his breath.

Thor got the memo and made himself look presentable once more. When Loki made to leave, Thor attempted a kiss, which Loki blocked with ease.

“Next time,” he promised and gave him a quiet peck on the cheek before disappearing out the door— head in the clouds.


	73. summon

Loki sat in the circle drawn with chalk, surrounded by tomes and flickering candles. Ancient runes that spelled the name of the demon, Thor. Closing his eyes, he whispered the spell into the musty air of the attic.

The man that appeared in front of him wasn’t a man at all. Two horns sat atop his head along with a crown of golden hair. Loki stared, unashamed, at the contour of his naked body. 

He licked his lips, and every candle extinguished itself.

Thor stared at him, amusement evident. 

“Can I help you, Laufeyson?”


	74. deleted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip tumblr

It was the end of the world as he knew it. A catastrophe.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Val raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Thor choked on a fry and tore his gaze away from Loki sitting across the courtyard. Loki was—well, there wasn’t much describing what Loki was. He was somehow both handsome and beautiful. He was clever and witty, intelligent and artsy. He— Thor could go on, but he wouldn’t. Because Val was staring a hole through him.  

The point was, Thor couldn’t just talk to him.

“I can’t.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“That’s different,” Thor sighed. “We have some classes together, strictly academic.”

There was also the _blog_.

The blog that Thor had anonymously followed since their freshman year of college. The blog that Loki posted his art projects to (projects that included him naked, or in lace, mostly). The blog that Thor, under a pseudonym, flirted relentlessly with. The blog that was about to be deleted.

“Well, Mr. Strictly Academic is looking over here,” Val deadpanned.

All too quickly, Thor’s head snapped back over to the campus bench Loki sat on. Sure enough, his gaze was lazily drifting in their direction. When he caught sight of Thor, Loki gave him a little wave. Thor returned it, kind of pathetic.

Val snorted into her Starbucks. “Don’t lay on the charm too thick.”

“Maybe he will move platforms,” Thor said, hopeful. He had spent all night refreshing Loki’s blog after hearing the website was closing, waiting for word on what he was doing. There hadn’t been anything. No new posts, not even a picture

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just tell him.”

Thor frowned, looking down at his lunch like it personally offended him.

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure. There was just a feeling in his chest that told him it wasn’t a good idea. Loki liked him as a lab partner, and Loki liked him as a fan—  even if he didn’t realize they were one and the same. Still, his chest constricted every time he thought of confessing. There was a dark cloud over him, stopping him, and telling him that he’d been there before.

“Loki doesn’t do relationships! Look at him!”

And, they did. They both stared at him, lounged on the concrete table—all black clothes, black nails, and black hair pulled into top-knot. Loki looked over and gave them a nervous smile.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” Val complained. “He just looks like a witch.”

Thor grumbled and shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

\--

The post came later that night. It was just a picture of Loki’s lean torso, the dip of his hipbones casting shadow in the harsh lighting. The image, of course, cut off just short of the beginning trail of dark hair. Thor’s eyes followed that trail to read the caption underneath.

**_It’s been fun._ **

That— that was it. Years of building a fanbase, years of making Thor pine like a schoolgirl, and that was all. No external links, _nothing_. Thor held his breath, opened a direct message bubble, closed his eyes, and counted backward from ten.

 **Thunder27 [9:15pm]:** Hi!|

 **Thunder27 [9:15pm]:** Hi|

 **Thunder27 [9:15pm]:** H|

 **Thunder27 [9:15pm]:** |

 **Thunder27 [9:16pm]:** Hey.

Better, Thor thought. More casual.

 **Thunder27 [9:16pm]:** I was wondering if you planned to move platforms? I would love to keep in touch.

Thor leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

His stomach was turning circles like it was at the circus, and he tried not to obsessively check his messages. When the computer finally pinged, he almost didn’t read it. Ignorance was better than rejection.

Thor looked anyway.

 **Silvertonguesnake [10:01pm]:** How about you just text me?

 **Silvertonguesnake [10:01pm]:** Thor.

His heart was in his throat, he tried to swallow it down. Thor stared at the screen, waiting for the words to morph into something else. He could deny it, he _should_ deny it. It was weird, right?

 **Silvertonguesnake [10:03pm]:** You aren’t as subtle as you think.

Thor stared up at the ceiling before gathering his wits and responding.

 **Thunder27 [10:04pm]:** How long?

 **Silvertonguesnake [10:04pm]:** Sophomore year. It’s fine.

Shit. Thor thought back to all the nights he spent scrolling through Loki’s blog, liking pictures and posts, commenting. Flirting shamelessly. Only to go to class the next day to sit beside Loki, who—now that Thor thought back—always had a mischievous glint in his eye.

 **Silvertonguesnake [10:07pm]:** Do you want my number or not?

Thor sent his in response, and his phone pinged a few seconds later— the full picture from his blog, uncropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thor sends him a picture of his messy belly after this, fyi.


	75. auction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3/4ths of the way there! can you believe it?? :')  
> THANK YOU TO EVERY SINGLE COMMENT!  
> i can't possibly get through them all, but please know i see them. and i love them.  
> they keep me going, thank you.  
> <3
> 
> and if you want, come visit me on twitter!  
> @shineonloki1

If there was one thing that Loki hated the most, it was meddling in his father’s tedious affairs.

As the prince he was required to adhere to diplomatic missions when necessary. Unfortunately for him, what his father deemed _necessary_ was often just appearances he did not wish to make himself.

Loki remained seated in his leather booth, lazily swirling a cocktail in one hand while an eccentric man on stage auctioned off various relics from across the galaxies.

“And this, this my friend,” he gestured to the side of the stage to something out of view, “I think you’re going to like this. The, uh, last of his kind.”

Loki sat a little higher in his seat, leaning forward to pay attention. Most everything the Grandmaster had auctioned was silly trinkets, stones and such, things Asgard had no interest in. But— to auction off a person, now that was something else entirely.

Two large, burly men appeared on the stage, each pulling a thick chain with a strenuous amount of effort.

“Oh, he is a feisty one,” the Grandmaster commented, clapping his hands as the men escorted an eight-foot, massive Jotun to the auction platform. His hands were bound behind his back, no doubt with magic-resistant cuffs, and though the Jotun strained against the chains, he didn’t get far. He just snarled and growled like a feral animal, a wild look in his red eyes.

And, Loki had seen Jotnar depicted in his studies, but never one with fair, blonde hair. Almost white, and shaved on the sides, the long middle plaited back like a fierce warrior. His blue skin glowed beneath the harsh lighting of the auction house, and Loki could barely make out the sharp angles of his heritage marks.

Loki hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he let it out in one quick go when the Grandmaster started the bidding at 5,000 units.

“10,000—” Loki practically screamed, standing and holding up his little blue sign. The Jotun snapped his head in his direction, a ravenous anger burning in his eyes. The Grandmaster looked a bit surprised at his willingness to double right out of the gate but ignored it in favor of searching the room for more bidders.

“11,000!”

“15,000!”

Loki began to panic, the nape of his neck collecting sweat. He should let it go, walk away. What was he to do with a Jotun anyway? He looked more suited for the battlefield, and Loki preferred to spend his time in the libraries and discussing military tactics from the comfort of his private tent.

Yet, there was something possessing him to go forward. A little voice telling him that the Jotun belonged to him and no one else.

“25,000!” Loki called out, holding up his sign. There were murmurs in the crowd, but the other bidders sat back, looking annoyed.

“Going once,” the Grandmaster paused, looking around. Only Loki remained standing. “Going twice?” Nothing. The Grandmaster banged his gavel. “Sold, to Loki of Asgard for 25,000 units.”

Loki approached the stage and one of the handlers gave him one of the chains connected to his prize’s collar. The Jotun stared, appraising him for all he was worth— which, was quite a lot. Loki gave an experimental tug on the chain, and it beckoned him forward, red eyes never wavering. A challenge.

“Loki,” the Grandmaster said. He had almost forgotten they were in a room full of intergalactic visitors. “Your purchase, uhm, Thor of Jotunheim.”

 _Oh_ , his father was going to be most displeased.

Thor’s lips curled into a shark-like smile.

But Loki didn’t plan to be.


	76. closer

Loki turned in his husband’s arms, snuggling closer. From the window the sun was shining, pouring over their bodies, waking them slowly to the real world. 


	77. abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i fell asleep writing last nights, and tonight i have to go to bed early and work at 5am. T__T there will be a longer one in the future!

Tucked away in the rock and ice, Loki sat beneath an overhang, alone and hidden from view. He could see his breath coming in tiny puffs, tiny crystals already forming along the hem of his sleeve. Cold. He should be cold. 

Loki looked at the back of his hand, pale and pink like it had always been. 

He _should_ be cold; he wasn't. 

It had turned blue, he saw it. The skin where the Jotun had touched, fading to cool tones, raised lines appearing in intricate patterns along his fingers. Loki closed his eyes, green not red, and let his head fall back. He wondered if they were looking for him, if they even cared, or if they noticed he was gone at all. There were questions he had, and answers he sought to receive. He knew he wouldn't find them on Asgard. 

And Thor, his brother, shining brighter than the sun. What would he think of his brother hiding in the shadows of Jotunheim's wasteland? What would he think of the truth if Loki's suspicions were true? Thor had been prepared to slaughter the Jotnar, surely Loki would be no exception. His brother was brash, spoiled, and reckless. It was what he was trying to show their father. But, for all that, Loki loved him. 

Yet--

Loki looked at his hand again, this time it was blue, like before. His heart froze solid, a tiny hiccup of a breath catching in his throat. 

If Thor were to see him, the sentiment would not be returned. 

So, Loki would stay on Jotunheim. 


	78. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry, this one is a tease of a longer story that i've been sitting on and maybe one day will write. :') if anyone is interested in it.

Thor could still remember the day the world ended. The day the skies opened to let down the invaders. The sirens that rang, the way his mother drug him into the bunker, peeled his eyes from the massive ship looming above. He remembered the sound of screams, he remembered darkness.

The Chitauri, they would eventually be called.

He remembered his brother and the way he clung tight to him. His dark hair huddled into his stomach, his little fists clinging tight to his shirt. They had all been scared, but Thor had tried hard to remain brave for Loki, and for their parents.

Someone would come for them, their mother assured it. Their father was a Politician, important enough that someone would rescue them. Thor remembered believing her with the weightless trace of hope in his chest.

His mother had been right, someone did come for them— ten days later. Masked men dressed in black who hauled them out of the bunker and into the gray light above. Thor held onto Loki’s hand, looking back at the row of vans. Too many vans; they didn’t need that many.

Then he remembered screams, his own as he was torn from his family. He remembered the feeling of his fingers slipping from his brother’s grasp as they were pulled in opposite directions. His hand reached for Loki, and for his mother, but he was thrown into the back of a van and the door was closed behind him.

The compounds were set up throughout the country, large underground facilities. Thor didn’t know how many there were, only that he was in 0018, and that he was alone.

In the large common area, on the screen that hung over them all, a face peered through the static. It told them to remain calm, that it would be over soon, that they would be reunited with their loved ones once again.

Wait, be patient.

It took ten years for the compound to descend into chaos and corruption. Half of the occupants believed the world was fine on the outside, the other half believed they were in the only safety left.

Thor was somewhere in the gray middle. He was numb, didn’t care either way.

But, when the riots broke out, and the seal on the door to the outside was broken; he made his escape.

\--

The Chitauri came to Earth seeking death and destruction, and they found it. The world was broken, desolate, a dystopian hellscape that, after seven years free from the underground, felt normal.

He squatted in the window of the two-story farmhouse, gun loaded, and eye squinting through the scope. On the other side the reptilian creature, flesh and machine, stalked the perimeter of Thor’s property.

Birds flocked from the forest line when the shot rang out and the Chitauri fell lifeless to the ground. Thor lowered his weapon, watched as the last remnants of life twitched from the body. The Chitauri didn’t often wander alone, that meant he would be on duty the rest of the night.

The farmhouse was falling apart after seventeen years of abandonment. He imagined at one point it had been well-lived in. Judging by the rooms with twin beds, and old toys, it had seen a lot of love. Thor had tried to fix it up as much as possible— he patched the holes, aired out the quilts, got the old well to pump again. He took to the master room and slept in short intervals, the curtains always open to be on watch.

\--

There was figure moving across the yard, wrapped in all back, face covered and goggles over the eyes. It didn’t walk like a Chitauri, its gait was too elegant and graceful. A human then, which could be just as dangerous, and headed straight for the house.

He felt for his hunting knife in its holster around his thigh, patted it for reassurance. Thor wasn’t a stranger when it came to doing the right thing, even if it was the hard way. He also knew the farmhouse was a beacon for travelers seeking refuge— but also that supplies were limited.

When he descended the stairs, the stranger was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the nearly bare cabinets, shoving cans of food in his black duffle. He froze, hand hovering over the zipper.

“Take what you have and leave,” Thor demanded. His voice came out rough to his own ears, low and raspy. He hadn’t spoken out loud in months.

The man held up his hands, turning slowly, showing Thor his palms. Then cautiously pulled the wool from around his mouth, revealing thin, pink lips.

“You don’t mean to keep this all to yourself, do you?”

Thor couldn’t see the rest of him, but that mouth twisted into a smug grin, and he knew how this was going to end.

The man rolled out of the way the second Thor lunged for him, knife in hand. When a fist hooked him in the jaw, he immediately regretted not grabbing his gun instead. Honestly, the man had looked thin and famished, even beneath his bulk of clothing, and Thor had underestimated the litheness he seemingly possessed.

Thor got a few jabs in, after an elbow to the eye that would surely bruise, before he finally twisted the man in his grasp, slamming him against the peeling floral wallpaper.

“Yield,” Thor growled, and the man snarled, lips curling to reveal teeth. He thrashed under the weight of him, but Thor twisted his arm hard enough to break, and the squirming ceased.

“You’re selfish. We are all here trying to survive.”

“I told you to take what you already had,” Thor countered, adding the pressure of his knee to the small of his back until the man hissed beneath him. “You’re the one being selfish.”

Thor was rewarded with a mouth full of black hair when the intruder’s head slammed back into his mouth. It caught him off guard just enough to loosen his grip, and that time, when he pushed the man back up against the wall, it was chest-to-chest with Thor’s knife pressed against his throat.

The goggles had slid up his forehead revealing green piercing eyes, dark brows and lashes— a straight nose and sharp cheekbones. Foreign, but familiar.

The blade clattered to the floor, and the man headbutted him again. This time, Thor stumbled back, tasting blood.

There was a hammering in his chest. An old memory squeezed at his heart like a vice. But it was impossible.

 _Impossible_.

“Loki?”

The man looked up, eyes wide— fear and confusion. Suddenly, he wasn’t a man at all, but a little boy, scared and reaching for his brother. Something in Thor broke; relief, sadness, hope.

“Thor?”


	79. pastries

They weren’t so different, really, when Loki sat down to think about it. How different were potions and pastries?

Sure, Thor— strapping as he was— was a mere mortal; where magic ran through Loki’s veins. It wasn’t so long ago that their worlds had been separated by social rifts and superstitions. As a witch, he originally turned his nose at the idea of mingling with humans.

And, when Thor Odinson opened his bakery across the cobblestone, directly in front of Loki’s apothecary, he had been furious.

There goes the neighborhood.

Thor had come over, bright and early, with a smile plastered on his face and a pie in his hands. They must have looked quite the sight, Loki thought. Thor, golden and cheery in a pastel apron, looking like the sun. Loki, with his dark circles and scowl, looking like a gloomy raincloud.

Loki took the pie, eyeing it skeptically and bid Thor a curt farewell, closing the shop door right in his face. It wasn’t easy to ignore the sappy, doe-eyed, man behind the foggy glass, but Loki managed. He was only a _little_ caught off guard by Thor’s handsome face at the time.  

Handsome or not, he was still human.

Later, when Loki took a bite of the pie, he concluded whatever Thor was doing was also magic.

The next day, Loki dressed his best, tamed his curly bedhead with a charm, weaved a spell on the bags beneath his eyes, and spritzed himself with a lavender water. He picked out a potion from his inventory— a minor luck one, it was popular with his customers— and set out across the street to the bakery.

The aroma hit him before he opened the door, and his mouth watered. The window was lined with fresh pastries, cakes, and pies. All were decorated with delicate precision, tasty little masterpieces. When the bell tinged in the doorway, Thor looked up from piping the rim of a tiered cake. His smile immediately vanished.

Loki stood awkwardly by the doorway, distracting himself by fingering the lid to display dish. The potion burned a hole in his hand, and he immediately regretted grabbing something so generic.

“Can I help you?”

“Thank you for the pie,” Loki blurted out. “It was delicious.”

Thor raised his eyebrows suspiciously. There was a smudge of icing on his cheek, and Loki couldn’t figure out why the sight made his chest flutter.

“I was really impressed, usually humans lack the ingredients to really enhance the flavors,” Loki told him. It was meant to be a compliment, but he couldn’t help but feel he stuck his foot in his mouth when Thor’s frown deepened.

“You are all very welcoming.”

Loki wasn’t equipped with the luxury of most social cues, but he knew sarcasm when he heard it.

“Ah,” Loki held out the small potion vial, petite with black glass and a cork. “Perhaps this will help if you are feeling disadvantaged.”

Thor snorted back a snide chuckle but took the proffered vial all the same. He held it to his nose and sniffed, which Loki found odd to do. The potion was oral, not nasal.

“A luck potion,” Loki explained. He couldn’t help but preen when Thor looked a little impressed. “It’s a minor one, but I think it will give you a bit of good fortune.”

Thor stared at it, blinking, before looking back up at Loki and grinning. It was that same sunny look from the day before— the one that made Loki panic and slam a door in his face. Now, it made him want to turn on his heel and run.

“Thank you,” he said, and it sounded sincere.

Loki only nodded and began perusing the pastry displays to keep his mind occupied and his mouth shut. From is peripherals, he could see Thor watching him carefully. When it became too much, Loki met his eyes again, offering a stiff smile. The icing was still on his cheek, taunting Loki and daring him to wipe it with his thumb.

(His mind so graciously supplied him with the scenario of him sliding his finger through it and then bringing it to his mouth to suck off. Loki, of course, did nothing of the sort. He only waved an inconspicuous hand and vanished it away.)

“Here,” Thor said, noticing Loki staring into the glass case at a cherry tart. Loki decided it was best not to tell him where his mind had truly wandered, and instead accepted the dessert from Thor like _that_ was what he had been pining over.

There was the strangest sensation when their fingers brushed. Loki let out a small gasp, Thor nearly dropped the pastry. They both felt it, the spark. Thor had to, with the way he was staring at Loki with furrowed brows.

It was the exact same feeling Loki got when he cast a memory charm on himself to remember where he left his good quill. Like there was something forgotten, begging to come to the surface.

“Have we met before?” Thor asked, voice a little strained.

Loki shook his head no, and Thor nodded in agreement.

“We couldn’t have.”

“No, couldn’t have.”

They stared at each other. Thor blinking, working something out in that pretty head. Loki, clinging the wrapped tart close to his chest, focusing on the tendril of memory still lingering on his fingers.

It was Thor who finally broke the silence.

“Could we have?”


	80. miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saltybitch_ on twitter suggested loki as a law professor and thor as his student. and i really liked the idea. but!! i know nothing about law. so, 100% less law, 100% more pining and idiots being idiots.

It was illegal. He should know, he was a law professor. The irony was not lost on him.

Not that anything illegal had happened, per se. They couldn’t fire him for the images he conjured up for himself at night. As far as he was concerned, daydreams and fantasies were fair game. Perhaps teetering on the morally ambiguous side of things, but legal, nonetheless.

Still, it was becoming a problem.

Loki Laufeyson held himself in high regard, as did the rest of the staff at the university. So, it didn’t sit well with him to have such a heavy secret. And, neither did the fact that a _student_ could entice such dark desires, or could cause such inner turmoil.

Thor sat somewhere in the middle of his class. He was a good student, maybe not the best, but always received good marks. (Loki was careful not to let his unbridled lust get in the way of accurate marks—even if there was a nighttime fantasy where Thor needed extra credit.)

The problem was, he was distracting. Not in the traditional sense, but in the way that Loki couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Thor would squint up at the board, pink tongue poking out as he scribbled down his lecture notes, and Loki would stumble on his sentence. Thor would idly slip the end of his pen between his lips and Loki’s brain would short-circuit.

It was like he was back at his first-semester teaching, and not a practiced professor closing in on tenure.

“Dr. Laufeyson?”

Loki shook himself from his reverie. Thor stood in front of him, bag slung over his shoulder, shifting from foot to foot. The rest of his students filed out of the lecture hall, leaving the two of them. His room was suddenly fifty degrees too hot.

“Can I help you?” Loki asked, voice calm and trained. Professional.

The sun filtered in from the window, basking him in gold. Loki gripped his pen just a little tighter, hand shaking as he finished grading the quizzes from the previous week.

“I was wondering,” Thor rubbed at the back of his neck, where his blonde hair was pulled into a sloppy bun.

Loki’s heart pounded in his chest, his brain filling the ticking seconds with a million different possible scenarios. He couldn’t turn him down if he asked. What would he ask? Loki on a date?

_Hey, Dr. Laufeyson, want me to drop to my knees right now?_

Beneath his desk, Loki crossed his legs at that thought.

“Well,” Thor continued, and Loki’s brain couldn’t take it. The suspension was literally killing him.

“Get on with it, Odinson,” Loki snapped. It was the only way his body wouldn’t betray him. Uphold the stoicism of a hardened law professor.

A light blush rose to Thor’s stubbled cheeks. And, shit, Loki really didn’t think that one through. The last thing he needed was Thor fidgeting nervous and rosy— adorable in all sense of the word. It was almost as bad as being smoking hot.

Thor opened his mouth to speak. Loki did a mental scan of all the reasons he should tell him no, and of all the reasons he should tell him yes.

“Could I ask for a letter of recommendation? There is a summer internship I was thinking about applying for.”

The world came to a screeching halt.

“Oh,” Loki breathed out, deflating a little. “Oh, yes, of course.”

Thor watched him pick his pen back up and resume grading. Quiet.

“Will that be all?” Loki looked up from the rim of his glasses, and Thor nodded, shifting his bag up over his shoulder.  

“Yeah, that’s it. Have a good day.”

Loki hummed a response, and only chanced a glance at the door when he knew Thor was gone. He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, pushing his glasses to the top of his head and rubbing at his eyes, massaging his temples.

\--

The weekend crawled by, and Loki stayed in a foul mood.

His student’s essays were beginning to blend together. Overall, they weren’t too bad. His class required certain pre-requisites, so most were passionate about Law, not there to tick a box off a list. Monotonous, that was what it was.

When he came to Thor’s paper, virtually flawless, he took great pleasure in making a note in red for a missing citation.

Monday eventually rolled back around, and he felt only marginally better. Loki refused to put a name to the bad taste in his mouth. It wasn’t a disappointment. Irritation, maybe, but not a disappointment.

But, as fate would have it, he turned a corner to collide headfirst with a solid, hard weight.

“Excuse me, Dr. Laufeyson.”

Loki distanced himself, brushing his dress shirt flat again, looking down to hide any emotion on his face. Thor was bent over, gathering his books, which prompted Loki to notice he dropped his leather binder. They reached for it at the same time, fingers brushing.

Loki pretended not to notice, but Thor stood there, looking down at him. He cleared his throat.

“I was meaning to ask you…”

Loki’s heart sped up as an innate reflex. Treacherous thing.

“Yes?”

“Do you have our essays graded?”

Loki pursed his lips, scrunching up his nose to stifle back the discontent. There was no real logical reason for the heaviness of his heart. Thor had done nothing wrong, he couldn’t be put to fault for Loki’s own unvoiced desires.

“They will be completed by the end of the week,” Loki bit out, tucking his grade book beneath his arm, and pushing himself out the way.

\--

He was a professional. He had a doctorate! He did _not_ swoon and pine for a _student_.

No matter how attractive, kind, or funny that student was. Thor wasn’t worth the legal and social recriminations, Loki told himself. Thor wasn’t worth the heartache, another voice told him.

So, Loki avoided him to the best of his ability. Which was hard being his professor, but he managed, and came out relatively unscathed. By the end of the semester, their encounters had dwindled, and Thor stopped lingering in the doorway after class. He stopped looking into Loki’s office when he walked by.

He just stopped.

And, Loki’s heart hurt only a little.

\--

There was a knock on his door, followed by a nervous Thor entering the room on a direct mission to Loki’s desk. Their final had ended hours ago, and his class with Professor Foster had been over for thirty minutes. (No, Loki _didn’t_ know Thor’s class schedule. Not completely.)

“Can I help you?”

Is that all he ever said to him? It was a wonder Thor spoke to him at all.

“Yeah,” Thor licked his lips, and Loki watched the movement. “Do you want to get coffee?”

Loki stilled, hands splayed across his desk. They itched to be splayed somewhere else, perhaps that broad chest. He balled his hand into a fist.

“Excuse me?” Loki asked, because what else could he say? Surely, he hadn’t heard right.

“Coffee,” Thor began, but then worry seeped into eyes. They darted back and forth, taking in Loki’s conduct. Then, regret, maybe. Loki couldn’t be sure, he was too dumbstruck. “Never mind, this was inappropriate. Just—”

“Sure,” a low voice said. Strangely enough, it was Loki’s own. His mouth moved on its own accord, apparently over his lack of finesse. “The corner coffeehouse, just off campus?”

Thor nodded, dumbly. Loki cleared his throat, a small edge of confidence.

“How does seven sound?”

“Seven sounds great.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

There was a long, awkward silence, in which they both just stared, daring each other to move. Loki’s resolve crumbled. The perfect image of professionalism vanishing. He stood, raking his chair across the hardwood and leaned over the desk to fist Thor’s collar, dragging him close.

Thor didn’t taste as he imagined. He tasted better. Of course, he would be better. The angle was uncomfortable, with Loki leaning over the desk and Thor pressing against it. It still somehow managed to be the best kiss he’d ever had.

They broke away, panting, smiles on their face.

“Great,” Loki whispered.

Because it was.


	81. love

** i. **

“Tell your brother you love him,” Frigga whispered, pressing her nose to the soft crown of Loki’s head.

Thor stood on tip-toes, craning his neck to plant a kiss on his baby brother’s cheek.

“I love you.”

**ii.**

Loki was crying, loud wails throughout the courtyard. Thor rushed to his side and bent over to examine the scrap on his knee. It was red and skinned, and he pressed the sleeve of his shirt to dab up the blood.

His baby brother looked up at him, sniffling as fat tears welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Thor cooed, “I love you.”

** iii. **

The water was cold but felt good on their skin. A quiet refuge from the sun. The brothers had spent all day wading out to their waists, rough-housing, and resting on the bank to eat summer fruit.

Thor’s heart was full of happiness, light and weightless.

“I love you,” he told Loki.

**iv.**

They had been playing in the vaults, exactly where they weren’t supposed to. Something happened there, but Thor wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that Loki became different.

Distant.

Thor crept into his chambers that night, curled himself around Loki like he used to.

“What if I were a monster?” Loki whispered into the dark.

“You aren’t,” Thor assured him. “I love you.”

**v.**

“I don’t understand.”

Frigga and Odin exchanged looks. Loki wasn’t there.

Where was he?

“We didn’t want either of you to find out like this,” his mother said calmly. His father stared onward, steely and quiet.

“You would go to him now?” Odin asked.

Thor looked to his father, aghast and full of disbelief. What had he thought? That he would toss his brother aside so quickly?

“I love him.”

Did they not?

**vi.**

It took days to find him, hiding on the edge of the mountains. Thor would recognize him anywhere, even with his skin and eyes so different. The raised patterns on his face and arms foreign, but his features the same.

“Brother,” Thor called, and Loki hissed.

“I am not your brother.”

He’d been crying, Thor could tell in the hoarseness of his voice.

“You are,” Thor told him, and gathered his hands up in his. He kissed Loki’s blue knuckles, and Loki watched him with red eyes.

Bewildered, amazed.

“I love you,” Thor said, and Loki melted into him.


	82. unworthy

 

He always remembered. Sometimes from his first breath; sometimes moments before taking his final.

The times he had years, decades, between himself and the memories were the easiest— even if Thor wasn’t there. Worse than being alone was remembering why he was; why he didn’t deserve the attention given, or the love, in whatever form it took on.

On most days the weight was heavy, crushing, and threatening. Thor’s words, meant to heal, only further cracked the bones. He didn’t deserve those words, he didn’t deserve tenderness. The darkness would swallow him up if only Thor’s light would let it.

His brother, unaware of the scars or who put them there, would try to convince him he was anything other than what he knew was true. Soft whispers, sentiments, kindness that Loki lacked the ability to process. Thor must have felt his love was unconditional, but Loki knew better. It never was.

And, he wasn’t so callous to think his was either.

He remembered the grief he’d caused, the horror, the betrayal. Everything. All the horrible things he had done to make himself unworthy.

Thor would lace their hands together and remind Loki of the good. Selfishly, Loki would allow himself to listen and pretend.


	83. deja vu

Thor peeked out from behind his father’s leg. Across from him, another young boy did the same. They stared at each other, blinking, tiny scowls on their faces.

“Father,” Prince Loki whined, tugging at Laufey-King’s skirt. When he gained his father’s attention, he raised a hand to his mouth to shield his words. Unfortunately for all parties involved, Prince Loki was a terrible whisperer. “He looks funny, I don’t like him.”

Thor let out a scandalized huff. How dare he!

As if Thor was the funny looking one! He wasn’t the one with blue skin, or red eyes, or— _horns_!

He opened his mouth to make a smart retort, but his father’s steely glare stopped him. His jaw snapped shut, and when Odin’s eye moved away to look back up at the towering Jotnar, Thor got his revenge. He stuck his tongue out at Loki— and Loki mimicked him, a flash of purple between his lips.

Oh, Thor hated him!

And, later, when the grown-ups were all drinking and being merry and Loki had pelted him with a ball of snow— Thor told him as much.

“Well,” Loki sniffed and scooped up a handful of ice with his bare, blue hands. “You better get used to me!” He wound his arm back and hurled the snowball at Thor, who just barely dodged it and set to make his own.

“We are to be married, after all!” Loki shouted, laughter in his voice as he ran away from Thor’s oncoming storm.

Thor got the strangest feeling of déjà vu, strong enough to stop him in his tracks. He shook it off and chased his betrothed the down the icy hill.


	84. letters

_My Love,_

_I hope this finds you well…_

Loki clutched the letter to his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Love— that was what they were calling it now.

His heart pulsed a dull ache in his ribcage. He willed himself to read the rest, stanza after poetic stanza. How Thor longed to kiss, and hold, and pamper.

A love-smitten fool.

It would have been a delight, everything Loki had dreamed of, if not for the slight hiccup he caused. The letters, as they were, were not written for him directly.

His brother had fallen in love with a noblewoman two towns over, Jane Foster, and Thor sat down to compose a letter the moment they arrived home.

The only problem was Jane Foster had not returned his affections.

Loki found her rejection first. She was more interested in pursuing her studies, bold for a woman, and was not interested in a courtship. Normally, Loki took great pleasure in teasing and causing Thor woe— but his brother had waited, day in and day out, for a reply and when push came to shove, Loki tossed Jane’s mail in the burning hearth.

That night Loki made a grave mistake. He sat at his writing desk, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote his own response under the pseudonym, Jane Foster.

Thor had been overjoyed, and it would be a lie for Loki to say it didn’t bring a smile to his face— to see his brother so happy.

Thor was young, and the infatuation was a new flame— easily snuffed. Loki was sure his interest would dwindle, that he would find a new maiden and see stars.

Once again, Loki had been terribly wrong.

They exchanged letters, some sweet, some tame, some downright filthy. And, Loki was ashamed to say he took himself in hand at the memory of some of those words, and some of those promises. Soon those shameful desires in the dark blossomed to something more. A lust more carnal and real.

Loki began to look at his brother with a hunger. Suddenly he was jealous of Jane Foster, who wanted nothing to do with Thor. Jealous of his own alter ego, the one wooing Thor with words and sentiment.

When Thor wrote of letting his hands wander up her soft thighs and hips— Loki imagined them wandering up hard muscle and sharp bone.

He wanted Thor to moan his name, not Jane’s.

It was a dark obsession, one that consumed him.

Now, they wrote of love.

Loki should stop before the damage was irreparable. Perhaps it already was.

He sat down and drafted his response.

_My Love,_

_I think of you often…_


	85. maybe

Maybe it was always this way— maybe there was no cosmic or divine intervention.

Maybe they were just two souls woven together in the same tapestry.

Maybe they were always destined to meet.


	86. feeling

Loki wished, he _hoped_ , that he could always feel the way he did with Thor.

Safe, protected, loved. 

That indescribable swell in this chest when he looked at him. 

He knew it wouldn’t be forever. But perhaps there would always be a moment, no matter how fleeting, they could both feel happiness. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry, i’ll give you something good soon. :’)


	87. bounty

It had been days with no messages; just endless space, and inedible food from whatever that horrible smelling planet he’d just been on. Loki was running low on funds—which meant he needed a bounty. The transmitter remained static, teasing him.

It isn’t until another week later— maybe a week, who is to really say in space? —that the radio sparks to life and a fuzzy hologram shifts its way onto his screen. It’s a picture, name, warrant, and price.

And oh, what a pretty price it is.

The static displayed a scowling man with an eyepatch, short hair hacked to bits, and bearded. Rugged, terrifying, yet handsome.

Thor Odinson: Wanted for mass murder. Destruction of his home planet, Asgard. Fugitive of the Intergalactic Law.

Loki accepted the bounty and kicked his feet up on the dash of his ship.

“Thor,” he said aloud to no one. “Here I come.”


	88. empty

Loki woke with an ache. He placed his hand on his chest, half expecting to find an empty cavern.

His room was dark, silent, save for the rumble of traffic outside.

There was a name on his lips, one he hadn’t heard before. He wasn’t sure where it came from, or who it was.

“Thor,” he said into the empty quiet.


	89. hibernation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a snippet from my secret santa fic, because i was too tired to write anything new yesterday! you can read it all, or just read this! the full fic is non-con somnophilia and explicit!

It came on slowly, like an illness.

Asgard was cooling and edging into winter. Yet, next to him, beneath the shade of leaves and limbs, his brother was burning up. It was the first red flag, tipping Thor off that something wasn’t right.

Loki tugged at his high collar, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. The air was so brisk that their mother had warned them to dress appropriately. Thor was warm, but comfortably so. Loki, normally cold by nature and wrapped in layers, looked as though the very fabric of his clothing was woven from flames.

“Are you well?” Thor asked. Loki had the nerve to look annoyed at Thor’s concern, closing his book with a soft thud and standing, jostling Thor where he leaned against him.

“Just a bit hot,” he said stiffly. “I’m going to retire early.”

Thor nodded, frowning, but settling back against the tree to resume his midday nap.

Loki was prickly most days, so it was easy to dismiss. Thor closed his eyes, missing the way his brother swayed on his feet.

 

* * *

 

“Would you like to go riding?”

Loki sat at his desk, scrolls scattered, and tomes opened. Practicing his seidr, Thor assumed.

He poked at a chunk of a glimmering geode, and Loki carefully removed his hand from it with an indignant huff.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” Loki said, and then quickly added, “I have far too much work to do.”

That was the thing, Loki had all but quarantined himself into his room. There had been whispers in the hallways about the younger prince feeling ill— yet, isolated, Thor had no way to watch over him.

And, if he were to admit it, he missed his company.

“Come on,” Thor whined, moving behind him to grab at his shoulders and shake him lightly. He felt Loki tense under the touch, and then loosen, head wobbling with the motion. Thor looked down the same time Loki looked up, and in a small victory, his brother smiled.

“Just to the edge of the mountains.”

“Just to the edge of the mountains,” Thor echoed, promising.

 

* * *

 

It was a short ride to their destination, fair weather, and Thor had the kitchen prepare a meal for them to share.

He rode ahead of Loki on the narrow path, filling the silence with his own chatter. On the occasion, Loki would throw a sharp retort or barb— which was good, it meant he was feeling himself. But soon his commentary shortened to hums and quick affirmations.

Then, nothing at all.

Thor looked behind him, twisting on his horse the best he could, to find Loki nodding off, slumping forward.

“Loki?”

Loki’s head snapped up, alert, but his eyes were droopy with sleep.

“Can we stop, just for a moment?”

The palace was still in their eyesight, towering above the trees. They had barely broken the cities borders, yet his brother looked like he’d been traveling for days. Weary, and in need of rest. Loki was already tugging at his reigns, his horse trotting to a halt. Thor followed suit, rushing to Loki’s side when he slumped on the saddle instead of making to get off.

Thor helped him down gently like he did when they were children. Loki leaned into him, catching his weight against Thor’s chest, dropping his head against his sternum and breathing in. He told himself there was no way Loki could decipher the quickening pace of his heart but took him by the shoulders and eased him into standing position all the same.

“I’m feeling faint,” Loki whispered. His voice sounded parched, dry.

Perhaps the rumors were true, maybe Loki was ill. Or—

“Do you think you need to eat? I packed some—”

“I’m tired,” Loki cut him off. It wasn’t sharp, or spiteful. It was exactly what Loki said,  _tired_. “Can we just go back, I’m sorry.”

Thor couldn’t remember the last time Loki had told him sorry and sincerely sounded like he meant it. It wasn’t as if he would deny him anything though. He swept the fallen hair from Loki’s forehand, stopping to place the back of his hand against it.

Warm to the touch, like he suspected.

“Of course,” Thor told him. “Do you need help back on your horse?”

Loki looked at it warily, lips pursed. The horse was dressed in only a saddle, no further restraints to keep Loki upright should he lose consciousness. Which, appeared to be a real possibility with the way he leaned against Thor, eyelids fluttering.

Thor decided then that he would ride with him, and it was a testament to Loki’s state that he allowed it. He attached a rope to Loki’s horse to guide it along, and carefully pulled his brother up, positioning him in front to rest against him.

The fever rolled off Loki in waves, his forehead beading with sweat, cheeks red, and his mouth open with heavy breaths. He was a hot, heavy, weight against Thor’s chest, letting out pained noises, that could easily be mistaken for pleasure.

It was indecent, and inappropriate, these thoughts— thoughts that shouldn’t be had about a brother, much less an ill one.

It was a box he wasn’t going to open, one that should remain locked.

Thor sat straight, not allowing himself to look down at his brother’s sleeping form again. His eyes stayed forward, toward the path leading back to the palace, and his mind stayed far, far away from Loki.

 

* * *

 

“Is he well?”

His mother’s lips turned into a frown, which did nothing to calm the nerves thrumming beneath his skin. Loki had been confined to his room, and Thor watched healers enter and exit daily.

None of them ever looked cheery.

“I’m afraid your brother is very sick,” she said softly, holding her arms open and beckoning him near. “You must be good to him.”

Thor nuzzled into his mother, breathed in her sweet scent to ground himself. His hands shook where they grasped at her robes.

Of course, he would be good to Loki.

“No matter what,” she whispered, though Thor couldn’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t.

Loki was his brother.

Loki was  _his_.

 

* * *

 

By the second week, Thor’s worry turned to anger. None of the healers could figure out what was wrong with the youngest prince.

There were times when Loki would slowly stroll through the hall, holding onto the wall for support, too stubborn for any other type of aid.

But even that became too much, and Loki was bound to his bed.

Thor watched him, from the crack in the doorway. Chest moving up and down slowly, eyes shut, buried beneath blankets despite the flush to his skin. A hearth burned strong, the windows all drawn shut. Thor had heard the servants talking amongst themselves, bewildered at Loki’s request for more heat.

A side effect to this mysterious ailment, they said.

The library was always Loki’s favored area of recreation, but Thor knew his way around it just fine. He gathered as many books on maladies as he could and retreated to a spot beneath the bay window overlooking the garden— the one he always found Loki at.

If no one else could find the problem, Thor would.

He wasted away three afternoons, surrounded by books and tomes, scrolls littering the floor of the library. No servant dared to touch his work.

“Any luck, my son?”

His father, Odin, stood before him, watching Thor with a quiet intensity. It was strange for him to been seen outside the throne room, he’d been so devoured in his position as of late.

Thor looked down at the book in his hand, he was beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel. No other text had anything close to what he was looking for, so he began to turn to other sources. Ailments of Vanaheim, ailments of Midgard— Thor currently held a book on Jotunheim, opened to a page on Winter cycles and hibernation.

Odin plucked it from his hands.

“I don’t believe you will find anything in here,” he said somberly, closing it and sitting to the side before taking a seat.

Thor eyed the book, dark leather embroidered with blue. His father was probably right— Asgard and Jotunheim had been closed from each other since the war, there was no way Loki contracted something hailing from the frozen wastelands.

“What should we do?”

Odin looked at him much like his mother had. Sympathetic.

“Your brother will be fine,” his father assured him. “In time.”

Not an answer, and not really a promise either.

Still, Odin was the Allfather. Surely his word meant something.

 

* * *

 

His mother found him on the training grounds three days later.

Thor knew immediately something was wrong, and his first thought went to Loki, laying weak in his bed. His stomach flipped as he dropped his practice sword and approached her, watching her wring her hands. She tried to put on a nice smile, but even that faltered.

Frigga hadn’t left Loki’s side in days. So now, to see her all the way out there—

“Mother is—”

“Your father has fallen into the Odinsleep.”

Thor closed his mouth, relief washing over him. It was inconvenient, yes, but not the worst-case scenario. He clasped a comforting hand on her shoulder, smiling for the first time in days. She returned it, albeit a little weakly.

“I will need to tend to things; will you check on Loki? Make sure he is warm.”

Thor nodded.

“Of course.”

He’d been waiting for a moment alone with his brother.

Loki was rarely honest, and stubborn in a way that made him unable to voice his real sufferings readily. No doubt he wanted to take this malady in stride, to appear strong when there was no need.

If Thor were to get him alone, he could ask him to drop the guard. He could see how he was really fairing.

Frigga broke him from his reverie, leaning up to kiss his forehead, giving his cheek a light tap.

“You’re a good brother,” she told him, and Thor preened only a little.


	90. weighted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a prompt from the lovely ioysomuch:
> 
> "human AU where loki goes to the gym just because there he can openly watch his sweaty half naked personal trainer brother lifting weights (and then masturbate in the shower because it is obviously too much to handle)"
> 
> I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!

“Five…six…”

Loki took an obnoxiously loud sip of iced coffee.

“You’re doing great,” Thor told his trainee.

He really wasn’t. The guy on the bench struggled to lift the weights. It wasn’t even a lot, Loki noted. Thor could lift that and three more.

As if on cue, Thor cut his eyes over to him, a scowl on his face. Loki gave a shrug and half-heartedly peddled at the exercise bike.

“Okay, keep going, that’s it,” Thor encouraged.

Loki shuddered.

 _Oh_ , that was going in the mental bank for later. Thor would be saying it under different circumstances though. Maybe while Loki imagined being bent over one of those stupid weight benches.

“Loki!” Thor hissed and stomped over to where he lounged lazily on the bike.

Loki eyed him up and down. Thor was wearing that ridiculously tight sleeveless shirt again— the one that showed every ripple of muscle. It was Loki’s favorite, by far. He batted his eyes innocently, chasing the straw to his drink with his tongue, smirking when he caught Thor watching.

“What? I have a membership here, same as everyone else.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking that while you’re working out,” Thor said smugly, pointing to the iced coffee. It was said in the same tone he used when they were kids and Loki knew he was going to go tattle. “Also, I wouldn’t call that working out.”

“It’s leg day,” Loki snipped and gave another pathetic pedal.

Truth was, he was just as in shape as his brother. His muscle was just leaner, a runner’s body. Thor liked to stick to the weights and bulk up. Not that Loki was complaining. It gave him plenty to look at.

He had always stuck to the park trails for his exercise, but since Thor took the personal trainer position at their local gym—

Well, he couldn’t very well turn that down. Could he?

Loki craned his neck to look around Thor to watch the trainee struggle on the bench press. “You might want to get that.”

Thor rolled his eyes, toweled his forehead off with the white towel draped over his shoulders, and turned around. Loki watched him leave, eyes laser focused on that perfectly sculpted ass in those spandex athletic shorts.

Hm, yes, maybe the gym wasn’t so bad after all.

\--

Loki unabashedly watched Thor all night. It wasn’t like he was paying attention, and if he happened to catch Loki drooling, he just gave him a mocking smile. Like he was only there as a teasing joke.

At least it was a half-truth.

Loki _was_ a tease.

He watched at the last patron walked out the door, Thor locking up behind him. He turned to Loki with a skeptical eye.

“Are you staying to help me clean up?”

“I’m staying to shower.”

Truth was, watching Thor effortlessly lift weights all night left him in a rather _hard_ predicament. He strategically placed his gym duffle in front of his crotch. Thor raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, looking Loki up and down.

Worth it.

“Have you even broken a sweat?”

Loki scoffed. He hadn’t— but, he intended to.

“I’m showering,” Loki repeated, turning on his heel.

\--

_Golden skin, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, hard muscles so perfectly sculpted they could be in the Louvre._

Loki bit his bottom lip to muffle the wanton sound he knew wanted to escape him. He worked himself over with his fist beneath the lukewarm spray of water and lathered soap. Thor’s soap. He’d stolen it out of his locker.

He was close, just a couple more—

“Loki?”

That almost did it, hearing his brother say his name. But he stilled his fist, squeezing tight. If he even thought about finishing that stroke, he’d be coming all over his hand.

“What?” Loki bit out.

Thor mumbled something, then he heard clothes hitting the ground and the squeaking of a faucet, rumbling of pipes. Leave it to Thor to ruin a perfectly good orgasm. His fantasy counterpart would never do such a thing.

“Just going to wash up,” Thor said in the stall next to him. “It was a long day today.”

“Yeah,” Loki rasped out, trying desperately to both not picture, and _picture_ , his brother showering right next to him. His cock, still achingly hard, twitched in his hand.

No amount of cold water was going to will this away.

Fuck it, he could be quiet.

Loki let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, bracing himself of the tiled wall with hand. He could do this— one slow stroke that had him biting his lip— _he could do this_. He was so close anyway. His fist sped up, just a hair, but the wet slap of skin had his heartbeat pumping. It wasn’t entirely fear though. It was also thrilling.

He kept at it, caring less and less if Thor heard. In fact, he almost wanted Thor to hear him bring himself off. Loki threw his head back, mouth falling open in a soundless pant.

Yes, he wanted Thor to hear him. His fist worked faster, finesse faltering. The sound that escaped him was breathy, almost a whine.

Loki couldn’t be sure, over the sound of rushing water and his own pleasure, but he thought he heard a gasp. He moaned, a little too exaggerated to be natural, but yes— there it was, another sound from beyond the partition.

Was Thor touching himself too? Loki tried to picture it, Thor trying to hide his grunts just like he was. His thick, fat cock in his hand— perfect, like the rest of him. Not that Loki had seen it, but those tight gym shorts left little to the imagination.

He had to repress the urge to shout Thor’s name as he came, bracing himself on the wall and releasing the best he could on the shower floor, near the drain.

In the stall beside him, he heard heavy pants, and muffled grunt. Loki’s stomach flipped— So, he _had_.

That was an interesting development. If he were ten years younger, he might even be up for round two at the thought.

Loki smiled, wicked and sly. He turned the water off and blindly grabbed outside the shower stall for his hanging towel, wrapping it around his waist. Thor’s faucet shut off not long after, and Loki was already dressed and toweling off his hair by the time his brother stepped out, red-faced and shifty.

“Have a nice shower?” Loki asked, with as much innocence as he could muster. Thor mumbled something unintelligible, refusing to meet Loki’s eyes. Water dripped along the dips of muscle, and Loki longed to lap them up. To run his tongue along—

“Did _you_?”

“I did,” Loki answered, shifting his towel just a little lower. “In fact, I may come back tomorrow.”

Thor was there, wet and dripping, practically naked, staring with a hunger. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Loki’s skin was on fire.

But this game had just started.

And Thor would have to work for it.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby,” Loki told him, and turned to walk out. He hoped Thor noticed how good his ass looked in his leggings— and he hoped Thor imagined ripping him out of them later. Because, that was happening. He’d just have to suffer a little first.


	91. forget

“What are you doing in here?”

Loki’s voice was ice cold, harder than he had heard before. Thor knew better than to enter his husband’s study. It was the one room in the house he wasn’t allowed.

 _Privacy_ , Loki had said. He needed _privacy_.

That would have been all well, if it weren’t for the nightmare. The reoccurring one where Loki left the study door open and Thor would creep down an impossibly long hallway. There was always a sense of dread with each step. When he finally reached it, he’d push the door open to see them both; Thor and Loki. But, never as they were.

Then, the door would shut, and Thor would wake.

“Thor,” Loki warned, taking a step toward him.

Thor clutched tightly to papers scrawled with ink. There were so many of them, too many. All recounting numerous lives they had lived. Memories, upon memories.

He knew that was what they were— not dreams, not nightmares. The words on the pages told their story.

Tragic, often.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t dare meet Loki’s gaze. He knew those eyes, he knew he would see the truth.

“They are just stories,” Loki lied. His voice was wavering, and from Thor’s peripheral, he saw Loki’s outreached hand. Trembling. “They aren’t real.”

Thor ignored Loki’s falsehood. With each word he read, he remembered.

“You never tell me,” Thor whispered. The one in his hand reported a world where they hurt each other. Tore each other apart. He crinkled it into a ball, and Loki let out a small gasp.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Loki said through clenched teeth. “I’ve gotten close a couple time, but—”

“But?”

“You aren’t supposed to remember.”

Thor finally met his eyes. He looked bewildered, shocked. Loki was telling the truth.

“It’s part of the curse, isn’t it?”

Loki snapped his jaw shut, ink-stained hands balled tightly into fists. “It’s more complicated than that. But, yes. This isn’t the first time you’ve remembered.”

The betrayal faded.

Thor watched as Loki took a step closer. When he held out his hand, Thor involuntarily nuzzled into it. A warm connection pulling them together.

It was all too much, but Loki was always just enough.

“What happens next?” Thor asked.

His husband lowered his head to kiss him softly on the lips, tears shining like glass in his eyes.

“You forget.”


	92. charade

“I don’t want to be king.”

They were standing by the window of their new home, overlooking Asgardia— still an infant in its state. She would need a ruler, someone well-suited. A parent to help her go strong.

Yet, here was the most viable man for the job declining the offer.

“Pardon?”

Thor turned toward him, and for the first time, Loki saw how truly exhausted his brother looked. There was a dark purple bag beneath his eye, and Loki was sure if Thor lifted the eyepatch, it would sport a matching one. His hair was disheveled, his beard boarding unruly.

There was a soft smile on his lips—and damn it, despite it all, he still looked attractive.

“For once,” Thor started and reached down to gather up Loki’s hands, raising them both to his lips so he could kiss his knuckles. “Let us just be Thor and Loki.”


	93. interview

Thor held his press badge up to the bouncer, who gave a curt nod and jerk of the head before leading him to the rehearsal room. He’d somehow scored an exclusive interview with the lead vocalist of _Silvertongue_ for his shitty college newsletter.

Thor gave their album a listen before the concert. It wasn’t really his thing, but it wasn’t hard on the ears either. Seeing them in person though— that was entirely different.

Loki Laufeyson’s voice was ethereal, as well as his body. The way he felt the rhythm and sang with everything in him. It was an experience.

He hadn’t been nervous before.

But now he was standing in front of the super-famous musician, realizing he hadn’t said two words.

Fuck.

Loki was staring at him, a devilish little smirk on his face. Thor swallowed, managed a weak smile and took a seat when Loki’s waved to the plush ottoman in front of the couch.

“What’s your name?”

Oh, Loki’s voice was even smoother when speaking.

“Thor,” he answered, surprisingly stable, and readied his voice recorder. All the while, Loki watched him. Amused, knowing.

Once he began asking the questions, the conversation came easy. His nerves finally settled, and it became easier to ignore the way Loki sat slouched with his legs spread—or the way his long fingers ran through the longer top layer of his undercut, or the way he tilted his head back when he laughed, or—

“Where do you draw inspiration from? For your lyrics?”

Something in Loki’s demeanor shifted, and Thor worried he’d said something wrong. It was a perfectly normal question. Was it not?

Loki leaned forward, hand reaching out to rest on Thor’s thigh. The skin beneath his touch burned, and Thor was torn between looking at his leg or looking at Loki.

He settled for that handsome face, eyes softer than he had seen.  

“An old friend,” Loki told him. “A lover that I always hope will come back to me.”


	94. gift

Loki crawled between Thor’s open legs. A little drunk, a little sloppy, and infinitely sexier in his head. He fixed the lopsided Santa hat before running his hands up Thor’s thighs.

“Ready for your gift?”


	95. holiday

“It’s snowing,” Thor commented. It wasn’t hard to miss the sadness in the way he stood propped at the window, watching the snow fall longingly. “Loki always liked the snow.”

Frigga approached him slowly, cautiously. Her face matched his— full of ache. Grief. 

“He did,” she said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Then, after a drawn-put silence, “we all miss him, Thor.”

—

It was days like this that made Loki feel like he could return back to his home. Back to Asgard. 

He missed watching the snowfall from the towers of the palace, from the arched windows of his room. 

But, he couldn’t return. 

Better them think him dead.


	96. bodyguard

When his parents asked, Thor couldn’t exactly tell them what his employer _did_.

The truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care. Not when Laufeyson slid him a check large enough to cover a nice portion of his student debt.

Thor pleasantly smiled and told his mother that Mr. Laufeyson was a very successful entrepreneur.

(The memory of Thor walking in on his boss wiping a smear of blood from his ring didn’t seem important enough to mention.)

Deep down, he knew. But he was never asked to do anything untoward, and the pay was nice, and the free boarding was even better. He got his own quarters off the main house, nicer than any flat he stayed in, and his job was to keep an eye on the cameras.

Security, basically.

So, Thor didn’t ask questions, just checked the gate cameras when someone buzzed and kept an eye on guests when Laufeyson had meetings.

It was easy enough.

\--

Thor’s leg bounced up and down as he stood outside Laufeyson’s office. He’d been summoned early, and his nerves hadn’t calmed since. Working for Laufeyson for six months offered him more insight into his employer’s affairs than he cared to know.

Thor knew one-on-one meetings with Laufeyson could turn dangerous.

After what seemed like hours— probably just minutes— the door to the office opened and a guard nodded for Thor to enter. Laufeyson was sitting at his mahogany desk, black, crisp suit, shining bald head, a little scar under his left eye.

“Sit,” he commanded, and Thor obeyed, dropping into the soft leather.

Laufeyson folded his hands together atop the desk, regarding Thor with an unsettling smirk on his thin lips.

“You’ve impressed me,” Laufeyson finally said, causing the tension to leave Thor’s shoulders— only for it to immediately return with his following words. “An opportunity has come up, and I think you’re the man for the job.”

Fuck. Here it was. Pretty soon Laufeyson was going to be sliding him a pair of black leather gloves and case file with a hit. He was going to have to run— kiss his family goodbye— change his name—

“My son, Loki, is returning from boarding school for the summer. He will need a chaperone and a bodyguard.”

Oh.

“I trust you can do both?” Laufeyson raised a challenging brow, like the task he presented was infinitely more tedious than killing a man.

Thor stood, silent— Laufeyson liked when he was silent— and nodded, reaching out to shake hands. He could do this, he could be a glorified babysitter.

Easy.

\--

Thor was given a suit to wear for when he picked Loki up. On the lapel sat the Laufeyson crest, two snakes winding together, so Loki would know he was employed by his father. In his hand, he held a picture of Loki to help find him in the sea of tourists exiting the plane.

Thor had spent too long looking at that photo.

Loki looked nothing like Laufeyson. He had hair, for one, dark hair slicked back behind his ears. The glassy, green eyes were the same, sparkling with unknowing mischief. Thin lips curled up into a smile. Younger though, delicate and soft.

Pretty, his mind supplied. Thor shut it out and gripped the photo a little tighter.

Loki wasn’t easy to miss in a mob of Hawaiian shirts and fanny packs. He still had his prep school uniform on, rolling a bag behind him. The second he looked Thor’s direction, Thor gave a little wave and held up the picture.

“You must be Thor,” Loki drawled in a lilted accent, smooth and flowery.

“Your father told you about me, I gather.”

Good. He wasn’t going to have to explain that he was hired to babysit him all summer. Something told Thor that Loki wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

“He did,” Loki hummed and reached out to take Thor’s hand.

Thor thought he was just going to shake it as a normal person would, but instead, Loki turned it over palm-up, running his fingers along the creases of his fingers. His knee-jerk reaction was to pull back, but Loki was watching him with fierce eyes.

“He seemed to have left some things out, though. How typical of Father.”

Thor didn’t have time to process what _that_ meant, because a bag was being dropped into hand and Loki was turning and walking towards the terminal exit.

\--

When the valet pulled the car around, Thor opened the back door to allow Loki to slide inside. He ignored Thor’s chivalrous gesture and opened the passenger-side door himself. Thor climbed in and told him it was much more spacious in the back, which Loki ignored.

Okay.

They rode in silence for the most part, which was fine with him. Thor wasn’t sure he had much to offer conversation wise. He did steal glances at Loki every now and then, but only quick enough not to be noticed.

His eyes fell from Loki’s face, bored and staring out the window, to the photo lying on the console.

Loki leaned forward and snatched it up.

“I hate this one. It’s last years school photo,” he explained, sighing and holding the picture next to his face. Thor looked over in time to see a dramatic, little pout on his lips. “I look so young in it.”

He looked identical, but Thor didn’t dare tell him that.

“I’m older now, you know,” Loki said absently, stroking lightly at his printed face. “Nearly eighteen.”

Thor did know, he was given very specific instructions regarding his upcoming birthday. They mostly involved him escorting Loki around and keeping him from getting too reckless, and ensuring he came home safely.

It seemed like a simple briefing at the time, but now, seeing Loki slumped with his legs spread, head tilted and watching Thor with his tongue between his teeth—

Yeah, he was in for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will be expanding this after 100 lifetimes is up!


	97. drive-in

[posted separately! please read here! :)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191568)


	98. chase

It took years for him to find the one he was looking for. Long, tantalizing years, full of hardship and mistakes. Loki was no stranger to failure, but he wouldn’t let this be one of them.

He stared at the back of his target, blonde hair hanging loosely over shoulders. It was strange how his fingers already itched to reach out and strangle.

For there stood the origin of all his struggles, in every life and every universe. The person responsible for the never-ending ache.

“Amora.”

Around them, in the quaint coffee shop, the people of Earth were frozen in a suspension spell like a room full of mannequins.

Amora whirled around, startled. She’d obviously taken to this mortal realm, dressed as they did, Midgardian pastry in her hand— which she promptly dropped to turn tail and flee. Loki lunged forward, quicker on his feet, propelled by adrenaline. He had her pressed against the wall, fingers wrapped around her throat in no time.

“Shit,” she wheezed out as she clawed at his wrists and hands, breaking skin easily with sharp nails. It only made him tighten his grip, lifting so that her feet kicked out for leverage.

He should kill her.

He could.

But he needed answers first, if only he could stop seething long enough to speak.

Amora watched him with fearful eyes. Maybe she was human here, normally she wasn’t so weak. He’d always counted her a formidable foe. Scouring the nine realms had proved tiresome, how lucky for him she was poor human on Midgard.

“Release this curse,” he growled, finally. Her face was turning from red to purple, so he loosened the slack. It was a good idea she that was alive to lift the enchantment.

Amora slumped against the wall, tearing away from his hand, rubbing her throat and coughing.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was hoarse, _good_. Loki would make it where she may never utter another curse again. “I’ve spent lifetimes running from you. Normally it isn’t _me_ you seek out.”

Ah, Thor.

His brother, on the throne back home— completely ignorant of the trials they had faced together in countless other realities. This wasn’t the one where he won. He didn’t get to keep Thor, only mourn something that hadn’t been his to begin with.

Cursed to remember a love he couldn’t have.

“Lift it.”

“Lift _what_?”

“Whatever spell you’ve laid on me,” he shouted.

Amora’s confusion slowly melted into delight, her red lips curling into a wicked smile as she picked herself back up. It was unsettling enough to make Loki step back. She looked mad, wild, and entirely too amused.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Loki blinked, then schooled his face into something more controlled. But Amora saw the crack in his charade, and she laughed, loud and bright.

“You fool. You think I’m the one who did this?”

“Only someone as wretched as you would do this,” Loki spat out.

“Oh! You are right about that,” Amora purred, much more like herself, much more like the Enchantress he remembered. She reached up to stroke at his cheek; he stayed stoic and still, refusing to react or flinch at the gesture. “Poor Loki, cursed to remember, yet the only detail you can’t recall is _why._ ”

“We have been chasing Thor for hundreds of years. I know this is your doing.”

Amora let out a huff of disbelief. “I exist in these universes, same as you. Is it really so farfetched to think Thor would love me in at least one without the aid of sorcery or tricks?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch,” Amora deadpanned, not a stitch of emotion on her face. “Listen, as much as I would love to take credit for this—”

Loki slammed his fist on the wall, hard enough to rattle the art hanging from it. Amora glanced at the indention in the dry-wall with a thoroughly unamused look.

“If not you, then who?” Loki hoped his voice wasn’t as desperate as it sounded.

He had to stop it, he had to forget. It was too much, he couldn’t take it. Not when his brother was to take a wife in a fortnight. The pain would be too much to bear.

_He had to stop it._

Amora’s cheshire grin returned, sharp and full of teeth. She leaned closer, lips brushing along his ear. When the name was whispered, Loki’s world went cold, freezing the blood in his veins, sight blurring at the edges.

He wanted to call her a liar, perhaps kill her like he originally planned to do. But he remembered the truth. He remembered the origin. He remembered the monster who resigned him to such a cruel fate.

The name she whispered rang in his ears.

_Loki._


	99. origin

“Brother!”

Loki had been looking for Thor for hours, normally he was always right where he expected him to be. On the training grounds, in the showers, in his chambers.

Almost never in the garden.

Thor turned almost instantly, the smile on his stubbled face faltering. Grief, or maybe shame, passing through. It was only when he turned completely that he saw the lady on his arm.

She smiled, waving a hand in his direction. Quite an informal gesture to give a prince, but if Loki had to wager, she wasn’t of noble blood.

That wouldn’t do, a lowly tavern wench wouldn’t be enough for his brother.

“Loki,” Thor said, pleasant, if not a little terse. “This is Lady Amora, I was just showing her around the gardens.”

Loki couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest, wound tight with energy threatening to explode. It made it hard to swallow, but he plastered on his most charming smile and bowed his head toward her. She held out a dainty hand for him to kiss, but he only gave it a withering look and resumed gazing intently at his brother.

The indignant huff that earned was more than satisfying.

Thor, however, did not look amused at all. Leave it to his brother to take note of Loki’s lack of chivalry to his fair maiden.  

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Loki, lying through his teeth. It was certain they both saw through his lie. No bother, he hardly cared.

“You as well, Prince Loki. Your brother has told me much about you.”

Thor’s eyes were downcast, the tips of his ears turning pink. Loki highly doubted anything good came from his mouth. Thor so rarely spoke to him these days, he could hardly believe he spoke _of_ him.

It was a shame, really. They used to be so close— sharing beds, sharing baths, sharing comfort together beneath trees, sharing hits on the training ground.

But, as people often do, they grew distant. Loki remembered the day it changed well. They had been taking a dip in the pond, normal as ever. He remembered watching the water drip from Thor’s shoulders, drying on his skin beneath the harsh summer sun. He had a piece of algae clinging to his blonde hair, and Loki had swum toward him, sliding up his body to pluck it off.

Loki would have been lying if he said he didn’t relish the stolen moments when he could freely touch his brother. It was innocent enough in nature when he reached up to pluck the green from the strands, flicking them to the side with a satisfied smile.

But Thor had exited the pond in a haste, drying off and leaving Loki there alone.

That was the meat of it, wasn’t it? Thor knew but didn’t return his affection.

“All good things I hope,” Loki finally said with a shark-like smile. Thor was watching him with distrust, a distrust that wasn’t exactly warranted. He had no plans to harm the Lady Amora.

Not directly at least.

 

Once he put a name to the feeling, it was hard to shake.

He wanted Thor, desired him, in perhaps the way Thor desired Lady Amora. But such a thing was taboo— two brothers! It wasn’t unheard of, but not smiled upon either. Not that it mattered; Loki had teased, and Thor had pulled back.

It was only right that Loki pulled back too— but Loki didn’t have a fondness for doing the right thing.

Mastering the art of magic was something he was very proud of. A prodigy, his mother had called him. With magic, there was a spell, charm, or curse for every situation. A broadsword or hammer could only do so much, but Loki, he could do amazing things.

Like, make Thor love him back.

 

Finding the right tome took months of careful planning. Physically obtaining the tome took even longer. Loki tracked it down to a forgotten temple deep in a Vanir forest. The trek was challenging, even with all his magic to lighten the load, but it was one he needed to do himself.

No guide, no one must know.

The tome sat atop an intricately carved pillar, overgrown with vine and covered in thick layers of dust. Loki approached it carefully, he could feel the power rolling off it in waves.

Close, so close.

He picked it up, cautiously, blowing off the dust to reveal a worn leather back. It was so delicate and fragile, despite its magical aura. He needed to treat it with the utmost care.

“I thought I might find you here, Prince Loki.”

Loki nearly dropped the book to the ground, but fumbled and caught it, hugging it close to his chest. He spun around to the direction of the voice, only to find a bent old woman at the base of the stairs.

“Who are you?” Loki called down. He didn’t recognize her, but he wasn’t surprised she did him. The youngest prince of Asgard was still well-known, if not as popular as his brother.

“That book in your hands holds ancient magic. Can I ask what you are planning to do?”

Loki regarded her with little interest—she was old and bogged down with wrinkled, a crooked nose and crooked smile, foggy blue eyes that stared up at him with a deep understanding. She couldn’t understand though, his reason for needing the book was beyond her comprehension.

“No,” he said. “You may not.”

“Might I give you a word of warning then?”

Loki stayed silent, still cradling the precious tome to him like a child with a toy. His eyes scanned the path to the temple exit, and he tried to deduce the best method of escape.

The old woman, however, took his silence as approval to continue. “Magic that old does not come without a price, and it does not always work in the way you want it to. You may get what you want in this life, but what about the next?”

Loki let out a dry laugh. The next? He had already taken the next into consideration. The spell he had chosen ensured he would be linked with Thor for eternity. Thor would always be his. Selfish, perhaps, but necessary.

“Those in youth make brash, dangerous decisions when in love,” the old woman said slyly, smiling with a mouthful of missing teeth.

“I am perfectly capable,” Loki told her, and her answering chuckle rang throughout the echo of the temple.

“Of course, then you haven’t any time to waste. Do you?”

She stepped aside, gesturing toward the exit glowing with light from outside. Loki eyed her cautiously as he descended the steps, tome in hand. Nothing happened as he passed her, except the crawling feeling of her eerie blue eyes watching him.

Once he was a safe distance, he sprinted.

 

For Loki was so hasty in his escape, he didn’t see the old woman pretzel in on herself. Or see her unfold into the youthful, shapely figure of Lady Amora. She watched his retreating back as he disappeared in the blinding light, arms crossed and fingers tapping.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Lady Amora sighed, and followed him out the door.


	100. canon II

There was really no telling exactly how many of Loki’s bad decisions opened up new, parallel universes. To think that one mistake started this tumble was foolish; he knew that now. The only purpose the curse truly served was to make Loki remember and bring them together like a magnet in each life they lived.

But Loki knew the truth, the real truth.

He loved Thor— his brother, his friend, his companion, and his enemy. (This time, thanks to Loki’s special brand of chaos, Thor was all of those things at once.) He loved him more dearly than anyone.

He would always find Thor. Every time.

And Thor loved him too, forgiving him time, and time, and time again. Asking Loki to come home, as if home were anywhere but at his side.

It’d all been great fun, really, in between the periods of lies and deceit, betrayal and pain. He hated to see it come to an end.

Loki’s eyes found Thor, beaten and bruised, but beautiful. He would gladly die a hundred more times for his brother, but he would prefer not to.

Still, it needed to be done.

Holding the tesseract high above his head, he told Thor with unwavering confidence: “ _I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhh! it's over, it's done!! i would absolutely love to thank each and every one of you who have commented or given me kudos, and support through this. i wish i could reply to you all, but please know that i've seen each one. and i appreciate them from bottom of my heart.
> 
> and of course, i'd like to thank wisterings for devising this insane challenge which has helped me grow and appreciate myself as a writer. i love you. 
> 
> anyway, and so we came full circle. thor and loki have many more lifetimes together, and i hope one day i can read them all. :')


End file.
